So young Higgins got drunk for the first time in his life, and Bill Wiley, on wings of love, went on his honeymoon. Six weeks later the big bachelor house was in a blaze of light. Every one was happy. It was Saturday night, and pay-night. The village ladies and their husbands wandered through the quiet streets, especially near to the house where the bachelors dwelt, for Higgins was playing the violin, and that meant something to that village.
“My! What a change there has been in the lad since that baggage got married,” whispered the story-teller to one of the sleuths.
“Looks like a different man,” put in John Hogan.
“I wonder how poor Bill is making out with her?” asked the story-teller.
“Gawd to tell,” said the sleuth.
“I bet she’s leadin’ him a devil of a race,” said the other sleuth.
“They ought to be here now. They went away six weeks ago to-day,” said John Hogan.
Just now Bill Wiley entered that bachelor quarter and walked slowly and painfully toward the group of men that were talking about him.
“Speak of the devil, and he’ll appear,” said John Hogan.
“Why, you’re looking all in, Bill,” said the story-teller.