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Updated: June 26, 2025
A moment or so later, a very pretty young lady was standing beside a trunk on the platform, trying to get some information from the flagman. "Can you tell me where Mr. Foster lives?" "That's the gimlet-eyed lawyer from New Yark?" "Yes, he's from New York," said the young lady, smiling in his face. "Where does he live?" "He's got the sassiest boy, thin. Is it him as took the Kinzer house?"
"It's no harse Oi have," he solemnly responded, "but Oi've wan av the finest mares in the south av Ireland an Oi'll drive ye over for six shillin'. But did ye railly swim from New Yark? Shure it's not natural."
The latter acknowledged the introduction, by pulling his head forward with a lock of hair and exclaiming, as he eyed Paul curiously: "Did ye railly swim from New Yark'" Paul laughed, saying: "I hear you have a horse and I am anxious to get over to Skibbereen and send off a telegram. I would like to have you take me over there."
More, I felt no exultation which should have been the first of warnings. Merely we got to a railway station one night, and a negro insisted that I should get out and stop out. This was N' Yark, he said. It was night, I repeat; there was a row of cabs in a dolorous rain.
But she cam nae speed wi' him; an' at last she says, says she, 'Geordie, I can make nothing of him: what in the world is to be done? 'Gie him a shairp upward yark, my leddy, says I; 'there canna be muckle strength o' resistance left in him by this time! Weel, she did as I tellt her I will say this for Leddy Carline, that she's aye biddable.
Aifter aboot ten meenits mair o' this wark, she shot at me ower her shouther the obsairve, 'Isn't it an obstinate wretch? 'Aye, says I pawkily, 'he's gey dour; but he's only a Spey fush, an' of coorse ye'll maister him afore ye've dune wi' him! I'm thinkin' she unnerstude the insinivation, for she uttert deil anither word, but yokit tee again fell spitefu' tae rug an' yark at the sulkin' fush.
Always done it, in Michigan and Yark State both; yes, sir." He put on his coat ceremoniously, while the tittering girls stood about the room waiting. He did not delay. His keen eyes had made selection long before, and, approaching Rose Watson with old-fashioned, elaborate gallantry, he said: "May I have the pleasure?" and marched out triumphantly, amidst shouts of laughter.
"Come on, Mick Duff; every deevil o' ye! Change your slaverie," he says akinda heich oot, an' then he lut yark at the seek again an' missed, an' made a muckle hole i' the plester. He stoppit an' harkin't for fear I'd heard the stishie he was makin'. I never lut dab, but keepit juist as quiet's pussy.
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