“They did not,” observed Madame Burke. “They lived woild in the bog of Allen, and there was mud on their shanks from wan ind of the year to the other. Divvil a cashtle did a Burke ever see; barrin' a jail.”
“Woman! av yez arouse me,” said John Burke, threateningly, “I'll break the bones of ye, an' fling yez in the corner to mend. Don't exashperate me, woman.”
“I exashperate yez!” retorted Madame Burke, scornfully. “For phwat wud I exashperate yez! Wasn't your own uncle transhpoorted? Answer me that, John Burke?”
“Me uncle suffered to free Ireland, woman!” responded the husband.
“May the divvil hould him!” said Madame Burke. “He was transhpoorted as a felon, for b'atin' the head off Humpy Pete, the cripple, at the Fair. He was an illygant speciment of a Burke! always b'atin' cripples an' women!”
The last would seem to have been an unfortunate remark, in so far as it contained a suggestion. The next heard by the listening P. Sarsfield O'Toole was the loud lament of Madame Bridget Burke as her husband, John Burke, submitted her to that correction which he afterwards described to the police justice as, “givin' her a tashte av the sthrap.”
The cries of Madame Bridget Burke were at their highest when P. Sarsfield O'Toole looked over the fence.
“Shtop b'atin' the leddy, John Burke!” commanded P. Sarsfield O'Toole.
“Phwat's it to yez! ye Far-down!” demanded John Burke, looking up from his labours. “Av yez hang your chin on that line fince ag'in, I'll welt the life out av yez! D'ye moind it now!”
“Is it to me yez apploies the word 'Far-down!” shouted P. Sarsfield O'Toole, wrathfully. “Phwat are yez yerself but a rascal of a Stonethrower? Don't timpt me with your names, John Burke, an' shtop b'atin' the leddy. If I iver come over wanst to yez, I'll return a criminal!”