Part 43 (1/2)
”Lave the gentleman alone, Mr. Quilliam. He knows his own business best.”
”So do you, Mr. Collecting Box,” said Black Tom. ”But your head's as empty as a mollag, and as full of wind as well. It's a regular ould human mollag you are, anyway, floating other people's nets and taking all that's coming to them.”
They were ash.o.r.e by this time; one of the quay porters was putting the trunk into the gig, and Caesar was removing the horse-cloth and the nose-bag.
”Get up, Mr. Peter, and don't listen to him,” said Caesar. ”If my industry and integrity have been blessed with increase under Providence----”
”Lave Providence out of it, you grasping ould Ebenezer, Zachariah, Amen,” bawled Black Tom.
”You've been flying in the face of Providence all your life, Tom,” said Caesar, taking his seat beside Pete.
”You haven't though, you miser,” said Black Tom; ”you'd sell your soul for sixpence, and you'd raffle your ugly ould body if you could get anybody to take tickets.”
”Go home, Thomas,” said Caesar, twiddling the reins, ”go home and try for the future to be a better man.”
But that was too much for Black Tom. ”Better man, is it? Come down on the quay and up with your fiss, and I'll show you which of us is the better man.”
A moment later Caesar and Pete were rattling over the cobbles of the market-place, with the dog racing behind. Pete was full of questions.
”And how's yourself, Mr. Cregeen?”
”I'm in, sir, I'm in, sir, praise the Lord.”
”And Grannie?”
”Like myself, sir, not getting a dale younger, but caring little for spiritual things, though.”
”Going west, is she, poor ould angel? There ought to be a good piece of daylight at her yet, for all. And--and Nancy Joe?”
”A happy sinner still,” said Caesar. ”I suppose, sir, you'd be making good money out yonder now? We were hearing the like, anyway.”
”Money!” said Pete. ”Well, yes. Enough to keep off the divil and the coroner. But how's--how's----”
”There now! For life, eh?” said Caesar.
”Yes, for life; but that's nothing,” said Pete; ”how's----”
”Wonderful!” cried Caesar; ”five years too! Boy veen, the light was nearly took out of my eyes when I saw you.”
”But Kate? How's Kate? How's the girl, herself?” said Pete nervously.
”Smart uncommon,” said Caesar.
”G.o.d bless her!” cried Pete, with a shout that was heard across the street.
”We'll pick her up at Crellin's, it's like,” said Caesar.
”What? Crellin's round the corner--Crellin the draper's I Woa! Let me down! The mare's tired, father;” and Pete was over the wheel at a bound.
He came out of the shop saying Kate had left word that her father was not to wait for her--she would perhaps be home before him. Amid a crowd of the ”mob beg” children of the streets, to whom he showered coppers to be scrambled for, Pete got up again to Caesar's side, and they set off for Sulby. The wind had risen suddenly, and was hooting down the narrow streets coming up from the harbour.
”And Philip? How's Philip?” shouted Pete.