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Updated: August 19, 2024
She reached The Poplars after much toil and travail. Mistress Fagan, Irish, house-servant, opened the door, at which Nurse Byloe knocked softly, as she was in the habit of doing at the doors of those who sent for her. "Have you heerd anything yet, Kitty Fagan?" asked Nurse Byloe. "Niver a blissed word," said she.
"It's diffirint intirely from a Mexican piece, and not like our own nayther. It's a way he has in loadin' it." "Well what of that?" "Why, Raowl says one of them axed him who fired. Now, I heerd a shot, for my ear was close till the door here. It was beyant like; but I cud swear upon the blissed crass it was ayther the sargint's rifle or another as like it as two pays." "It is very strange!"
"Well, I don't want to go beyant that; but the way the lord's ingineer goes down is, he has a little bell wid him, and while he has that little bell to ring, hurt nor harm can't come to him." "Arrah be aisy." "Divil a lie in it." "Maybe it's a blissed bell," said O'Reirdon, crossing himself. "No, it is not a blissed bell."
"We have bribed her to spend to-morrow morning cleaning the club room, and she thinks we are 'blissed young gintlemen." "Get over on the piano stool, Art, and give us that new music you were playing last night," begged Joe. "No, don't play new things," implored Dorothy. "Play some college songs."
A corporal's guard took or rather carried us to the guard-house, and towards morning, when we sobered up, he tould me the whole story." "Pretty well put together, Terry." "And the blissed truth, ivery word of it." The night was wearing away work before them in the morning and the group dispersed for their blankets, from which we will not disturb them until the succeeding chapter.
Working with her over a little ironing board, Barbara quickly became expert in all the finer and more delicate operation of her art, or as the laundress herself said: "Shure, the blissed choild puts the raal Oirish accint into the doin' up of a pretty frock."
An old woman, whom I asked, said, 'Do I know Mister 'Olworthy? A blissed saint in the flesh; my poor ol' bones would 'ave hached many a cold night but for the blankets he brought me. God in 'eaven reward 'im for that same! I spare you the rest of the answers. Oh, you are a saint, without robe or wings." "Hadn't we better come back to the subject," said Mr. Holworthy, in a mild voice.
In fact, poor little Evelyn, who was only a child and needed her food, did steal down to the kitchen about nine o'clock and got her plate of dinner. But she was more satisfied by Agnes bursting into tears and talking about her "blissed father that was gone, and how there was niver a man like him," and actually holding her in her great lap while she ate.
Billy’s face was all screwed up, but it was not with laughter. “Did you ever speak to Mr. Westabrook about it?” “Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv’ry t’ing he cud—the foine man that he is. Advertisements and detayktives, but wid all his money, he cudn’t foind out a t’ing. If ut wasn’t for my blissed lamb, I’d pray to the saints to let me die.”
It's me husband, Pat Mcgroarty, as is a nurruss in the horsepital, and a good one as iver ye seed, and it's Pat as has been a-tellin' me about that blissed saint of a man, as how in his delairyum he kept a-talkin' to Charley all the time, and Pat said as he seemed to have something on his mind he wanted to say to Charley.
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