“Here we are, mounseers,” said one, as, stopping at the door of a two-storied house, he knocked with his knuckles on the panel.
“Nous filions, slick, en suite, here,” said the other, holding out his hand.
“They are going!” whispered I; “they want to be paid, and we are well rid of them.”
“It would be manners to wait and see if they 'll let us in,” said Joe, who did not fancy this summary departure, while he fumbled in his pocket for a suitable coin.
“Vite!—quick!—sharp time!” cried one of the fellows, who, as the sound of voices was heard from within, seemed impatient to be off; and so, snatching rather than taking the shilling which still lingered in Joe's reluctant fingers, he wheeled about and fled, followed rapidly by the other.
“Qui va!” cried a sharp voice from within, as I knocked for the second time on the door-panel with a stone.
“Friends,” said I; “we want a lodging and something to eat.”
The door was at once opened, and, by the light of a lantern, we saw the figure of an old woman, whose eyes, bleared and bloodshot, glared at us fixedly.
“'Tis a lodgen' yez want?” said she, in an accent that showed her to be Irish. “And who brought yez here?”
“Two young fellows we met on the quay,” said Joe; “one called the other 'Tony.'”