They're shuddered an'
shocked at the cruel an' bloody dades iv war, yet who so quick do they
lose their hearts to as the brave butcher-bye iv a sodger? Why not?
The lad's done brave things, and the girls give him the warm soft
smile. Small reason, that, for me to be callin' him the devil's own
cub. Out upon ye, Matt McCarthy, for a crusty old sour-dough, with
vitals frozen an' summer gone from yer heart! 'Tis an ossification
ye've become! But bide a wee, Matt, bide a wee," he supplemented.
"Wait till ye've felt the fale iv his flesh."
The opportunity came shortly, when St. Vincent, with Frona opposite,
swept in the full thirteen tricks.
"A rampse!" Matt cried. "Vincent, me lad, a rampse! Yer hand on it,
me brave!"
It was a stout grip, neither warm nor clammy, but Matt shook his head
dubiously. "What's the good iv botherin'?" he muttered to himself as
he shuffled the cards for the next deal. "Ye old fool! Find out first
how Frona darlin' stands, an' if it's pat she is, thin 'tis time for
doin'."
"Oh, McCarthy's all hunky," Dave Harney assured them later on, coming
to the rescue of St. Vincent, who was getting the rough side of the
Irishman's wit. The evening was over and the company was putting on
its wraps and mittens. "Didn't tell you 'bout his visit to the
cathedral, did he, when he was on the Outside? Well, it was suthin'
like this, ez he was explainin' it to me.
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