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Updated: June 17, 2025
The very name of Tom reminded him that he was in his father's house, and that should he return, and find him there, he might expect little mercy at his hands. Tom, however, amidst the melancholy fatuity under which he labored, never forgot that he had an account to settle with Skinadre.
But I intended to set all right. Ay there she lies. An' again, how are we at home? Brought low down, down to a mud cabin! Now, Dick o' the Grange, an' now, Darby Skinadre now for revenge. The time is come. I'll take my place at the head of them, and what's to be done, must be done. Margaret Murtagh, you're lying dead before me, and by the broken heart you died of "
Go in now, an'," he added in another soliloquy, "may the Lord prosper his virtuous endayvors, the vagabone; although all hope o' that's past, I doubt; for hasn't Skinadre the promise, and Masther Richard the bribe? However, who can tell? -so God prosper the vagabone, I say again."
My stepmother's gone to Darby Skinadre, the meal-monger's." "I'm goin' there." "An' if you see her," replied the other, "you'll know her; a score on her cheek ha, ha, ha; an' when you see it, maybe you'll thank God that I am not your step-daughter." "Isn't there a family named Sullivan that lives not far from Skinadre's?"
Ay, an' I swore it, an' there's another, too, that's to get it, but I won't rob any body, nor join in that at all; I'll hang him here, though ha, Darby, I have you now." As he spoke, poor Skinadre received a chuck of the halter which almost brought his tongue out as far as in the throttling process which we have before described.
"Then, Skinadre, I'll tell you I'll tell you, sarra," we ought to add here, that Harte was a first-rate mimic, and was now doing a drunken man, "I'll tell you, sarra that person was Nelson on the top of the monument in Sackville street no no I'm wrong; I could make poor ould Horace drunk any time, an' often did an' many a turn-tumble he got off the monument at night, and the divil's own throuble I had in gettin' him up on it before mornin', bekaise you all know he'd be cashiered, or, any way, brought to coort martial for leavin' his po-po-post."
She then passed on to her neighbor's house, and the next appearance of her companion was that in which the reader caught, a glimpse of her in the house of Darby Skinadre, from which she followed Nelly M'Gowan and Mave Sullivan with an appearance of such interest.
Skinadre, thin and mealy, with his coat off, but wearing a waistcoat to which were attached flannel sleeves, was busily engaged in his agreeable task of administering to their necessities.
Skinadre on perceiving the matron who preceded her, paused for a moment, and looked at her with a wince in his thin features that might be taken for an indication of either pleasure or pain.
The latter looked at him with a good deal of real surprise, as the others did with that which was of a very different description. "Skinadre," proceeded Harte, "will you hand over the cowld wather, for a bumper it must be, if it was vitriol."
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