“Why, if they knew, perhaps,” slily responded the interesting invalid, “if they knew they might not exactly like it, but ye see, I escaped only last night, and there’ll be a fine hub-bub in the morning, when they find I’m off; though I’m thinking Rooney’s barking away by this time.”
“Rooney barking, why, what does that mean?”
“They always bark for a day or two after they’re bit, if the infection comes first from the dog.”
“You are surely not speaking of hydrophobia,” said I, my hair actually bristling with horror and consternation.
“Ayn’t I?” replied he; “may be you’ve guessed it though.”
“And have you the malady on you at present?” said I, trembling for the answer.
“This is the ninth day since I took to biting,” said he gravely, perfectly unconscious as it appeared of the terror such information was calculated to convey.
“Any with such a propensity, sir, do you think yourself warranted in travelling in a public coach, exposing others—”
“You’d better not raise your voice, that way,” quietly responded he, “if I’m roused, it ’ill be worse for ye, that’s all.”
“Well but,” said I, moderating my zeal, “is it exactly prudent, in your present delicate state, to undertake a journey?”