“Look ut here! Ye said in yer serrmon that as to Him”—he pointed through the broken ceiling—“we’re all criminals alike, didn’t ye?”
“I did,” responded the preacher, in a low tone.
“Yes,” said Ristofalo; and the boy echoed the same word.
“Well, thin, what rights has some to be out an’ some to be in?”
“Only one right that I know of,” responded the little man; “still that is a good one.”
“And that is—?” prompted the Irishman.
“Society’s right to protect itself.”
“Yes,” said the prisoner, “to protect itself. Thin what right has it to keep a prison like this, where every man an’ woman as goes out of ud goes out a blacker devil, and cunninger devil, and a more dangerous devil, nor when he came in? Is that anny protection? Why shouldn’t such a prison tumble down upon the heads of thim as built it? Say.”
“I expect you’ll have to ask somebody else,” said the rector. He rose.
“Ye’re not a-goun’!” exclaimed the Irishman, in broad affectation of surprise.