O'TOOLE'S CHIVALRY
A woman, a spaniel, and a walnut tree;
The more you beat them, the better they be.
Irish Proverb.
Thus sadly sang P. Sarsfield O'Toole to himself, as he readjusted the bandage to his wronged eye. He believed it, too; at least in the case of Madame Bridget Burke, the wife of one John Burke.
The Burkes were the neighbours of P. Sarsfield O'Toole; they lived next door. The intimacy, however, went no further; O'Toole and the Burkes were not friends.
This is the story of the damaged eye. It offers the reason why P. Sarsfield O'Toole comforted himself with the vigorous Irish proverb.
It was the evening before. P. Sarsfield O'Toole was sitting on his back porch, cooling himself after a day's work at his profession of bricklayer, by reading the history of Ireland. The Burkes were holding audible converse just over the division fence.
P. Sarsfield O'Toole closed the history of his native land to listen. This last was neither an arduous nor a painful task, for the Burkes, with the splendid frankness of a household willing to stand or fall by its record, could be heard a block.
“Me family was noble!” P. Sarsfield O'Toole overheard John Burke remark. “The Burkes wanst lived in their own cashtle.”