"Yez sint for me, Regan," observed the little hostler, in noncommittal, far-away tones.
"I did, Maguire," said Regan diplomatically. "Things haven't been going as smooth as they might have over in the roundhouse since you left, and I want you to come back. What do you say?"
"'Tis not fwhat I say," said Maguire, and he moved no nearer to the bed. "'Tis whether yez unsay fwhat yez said yersilf. Do yez take ut back, Regan?"
"I do," said Regan in grave tones—but his hand reached up to help the bandages hide his grin. "I take it all back, Maguire—every word of it."
"Thot's all right, thin," said the little hostler, not arrogantly, but as one justified. "I'm sorry to see yez are sick, Regan, an' I'm glad to see yez are better—but did I not warn yez, Regan? 'Twas the wrath av God, Regan, thot's the cause av this."
"Mabbe," said Regan softly. "Mabbe—but to my thinking 'twas the devil and all his works."
"Fwhat's thot?" inquired Maguire, bending forward. "I didn't catch fwhat yez said, Regan."
"I said," said Regan, choking a little, "that Noodles is a godson any godfather would be proud to have."
"Sure he is," said Noodles' father cordially. "He is thot."