This double insult levelled at himself and the goose he was carrying took the wind out of Micky’s sails.
“Who are you talking to?” said he, shifting the goose from his left to his right shoulder, and advancing towards Patsy.
“The son of the ould jackass that grazes on the common, I b’lieve,” replied Patsy, raising his bucket; “though ’tis well known all over the villige he disowns you.”
“Do you see this fist?” cried Micky, shaking a grimy fist in the other’s face.
“I do. Do you see the water in this bucket?”
“I do.”
“Well, taste it!” cried Patsy, flinging it in his face.
The next moment the goose, swung like a club, caught Patsy on the side of the head, nearly stunning him, and the next both boys were rolling on the flags of the yard fighting like cats.
At this moment who should enter the stable-yard but Miss Kiligrew, driving the governess-cart with the children, and at this moment also the kitchen door opened, and Mrs Kinsella appeared to see what was keeping Patsy so long in fetching the water.