"You got her chape, I'll engage, Larry, me darlin'," remarked another of the idlers.
"Faix, and I paid enough for her," returned her owner stoutly. "It isent every wan that would sit over her! she does be a bit unaisy in herself betimes" (a delicate allusion to her well-known habits of kicking and bolting). "Howd-somever, she's a grand goer, and I bought her designedly on purpose for the post.—'Tis she can knock fire out of the road."
"Oh! them sprigs of shellelagh can all do that," acquiesced a bystander, who had hitherto observed a benevolent neutrality; "but they does be dangerous bastes."
"What's that you have there, Tom?" inquired Larry, looking at the rough rider.
"Oh! a terrible fine colt of Mr. Murphy's—I'm just handling him a bit, before the next cub-hunting."
"He is a great plan of a horse," said the man in the blue coat, speaking with an air of authority, and his hands tucked under his long swallow-tails.
"Look at the shoulder on him!" exclaimed a third connoisseur.
All this was by no means agreeable to Mr. Flood, considering the tepid praise bestowed on his own purchase.
"What do you think of her, Larry?" inquired the rider. "Come now, give us your opinion?" he added in a bantering tone.
"Well, I think," said Larry, gladly seizing this opportunity to pay off Tom, the horsebreaker, and eyeing the animal with an air of solemn scrutiny. "Well, now, I'll just tell ye exactly what I think—I thinks he looks lonely."