“Well,” said she, “isn’t it too bad about the poor fellow!”
The train had stopped, and the fat old Irish woman put her head out of the window and inquired of a young railway porter what it was stopping for.
The young man was inclined to be facetious.
“Engine out late last night, ma’am,” he remarked, with a smile, “so she’s got a thirst on her this morning; they’re giving ’er a drop o’ water.”
“And are ye shure it’s water?” queried the dame.
“If you’ll wait a minute I’ll inquire whether they’re givin’ ’er port wine,” he grinned.
“Shure, and never mind, young man, don’t be troublin’ yoursilf,” came the answer. “I thought, perhaps, by the way we’ve been gitting along, it was sloe gin!”