Part 42 (2/2)
”A griddle! Why, then, is it the likes o' me would have a griddle? that indeed! No; but, any how, sure a griddle only scalds the bread; but you'll find that this is not too much done; bekaise you know the ould proverb, 'a raw dad makes a fat lad.'”
”Troth,” replied Fergus, ”it's good bread, and fills the _boast_** of a man's body; but now that I've made a good supper, I'll throw myself on the straw, for I feel as if my eyelids had a millstone apiece upon them.
I never shtrip at night, but just throws my blanket over me, an' sleeps like a top. Glory be to G.o.d! Oh, then, there's nothing like the health ma'am: may G.o.d spare it to us! Amin, this night!”
** Boast--a figurative term, taken from a braggadocio or boaster; it applies to any thing that is hollow or deceitful: for instance, when some potatoes that grow unusually large are cut in two, an empty s.p.a.ce is found in the centra, and that potato is termed boast, or empty.
He accordingly threw himself on the shakedown, and in a short time, as was evident by his snoring, fell into a profound sleep.
This was an experiment, though a hazardous one, as we have said; but so far it was successful. In the course of half an hour the Red Rapparee came in, dressed in his uniform. On looking about him he exclaimed, with an oath,
”Who the h.e.l.l is here?”
”Why,” replied Mary Mahon, ”a poor ould man that axed for charity an'
lodgin' for the night.”
”And why did you give it to him?”
”Bekaise my charity to him may take away some of my sins.”
”Some of your devils!” replied the savage, ”and I think you have enough of them about you. Didn't you know I was to come here to-night, as I do almost every night, for an hour or two?”
”You was drinkin',” she replied, ”and you're drunk.”
”I am drunk, and I will be drunk as often as I can. It's a good man's case. Why did you give a lodgin' to this ould vagabone?”
”I tould you the raison,” she replied; ”but you needn't care about him, for there's not a word of English in his cheek.”
”Faith, but he may have something in his purse, for all that. Is he ould?”
”A poor ould man.”
”So much the betther; be the livin' I'll try whether he has any ould coins about him. Many a time--no, I don't say many a time--but twic't I did it, and found it well worth my while, too. Some of these ould scamers lie wid a purse o' goolden guineas under their head, and won't confess it till the last moment. Who knows what this ould lad may have about him? I'll thry anyhow,” said the drunken ruffian; ”It's not aisy to give up an ould custom, Molly--the sheriff, my darlin', for that. I aised him of his fines, and was near strikin' a double blow--I secured his pocket-book, and made a good attempt to hang w.i.l.l.y Reilly for the robbery into the bargain. Now, hang it, Molly, didn't I look a gentleman in his' clothes, shoes, silver buckles, and all; wasn't it well we secured them before the house was burned? Here,” he added, ”take a snees.h.i.+n of this,” pulling at the same time a pint bottle of whiskey out of his pocket; ”it'll rise your spirits, an' I'll see what cash this ould codger has about him; an', by the way, how the devil do we know that he doesn't understand every word we say. Suppose, now--(hiccup)--that he heard me say I robbed the sheriff, wouldn't I be in a nice pickle? But, tell me, can you get no trace of Reilly?”
”Devil a trace; they say he has left the country.”
”If I had what that scoundrel has promised me for findin' him out or securin' him--here's--here's--here's to you--I say, if I had, you and I would”--Here he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, as much as to say they would try another climate.
”And now,” he proceeded, ”for a search on the shake-down. Who knows but the ould fellow has the yellow boys (guineas) about him? ”--and he was proceeding to search Fergus, when Mary flew at him like a tigress.
”Stop, you cowardly robber!” she exclaimed; ”would you bring down the curse and the vengeance of G.o.d upon both of us. We have enough and too much to answer for, let alone to rob the ould an' the poor.”
”Be aisy now,” said he, ”I'll make the search; sure I'm undher the scoundrel Whitecraft's protection.”
”Yes, you are, and you're undher my protection too; and I tell you, if you lay a hand upon him it'll be worse for you.”
”What--what do you mane?”
”It's no matther what I mane; find it out.”
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