"The deuce he has," said Ryan with surprise; "that's unusual for him."
"Tired I suppose," was the answer.
"It's a pity," observed Ryan, regretfully; "he is a deuced good fellow for a song."
"Give us one yourself Pat," said Bentley, tapping his glass on the table.
"Mr. Ryan for a song gentlemen."
"Yes a song--a song"--from all.
"Something jolly?" from Chester, who was now quite intoxicated.
"I'll sing ye 'Killaloe,'" said Pat; "it's got a touch of the brogue about it that will go beautifully with the whiskey."
So he accordingly sang "Killaloe" to a delighted audience, who joined in the chorus with bacchanalian vehemence, and who gave the "Whoop ye divils" at the end with a vigour worthy of Donnybrook Fair. Then Ronald sang, "Wrap me up in my old stable jacket"--that old song which is always such a favourite; and after sundry other selections had been given by gentlemen with good intentions, but husky voices, Pat was called on to sing his favourite nigger song, "I love a lubly gal." A pleasant voice had Pat, and he sang the plaintive little melody in a charmingly sympathetic manner--
"I love a lubly gal, I do,
And I have loved a gal or two;
An' I know how a gal should be
Lub'd--you bet I do."