"Arrah, shure, now," said "His Majesty," "we're accustomed to danger. We don't moind throifles like this—not a bit av it:
"'For divil a bit av me cares,
I'm randy to tackle the foe;
If alive, let him fight if he dares,
If he's dead, to the dogs let him go.'"
By this time the noise and the flaming torches had seemed to rouse up Katie and Dolores. Both of these now stood up, blinking and shrinking, clinging timidly to one another, and looking like two frightened children just awakened. They seemed so surprised, so confused, and so terrified, that the heart of "His Majesty" swelled with pity and compassion.
"Ladies! jools!" said he, "don't, don't give way. Shure it's all over now, so it is, an' yez needn't be a bit afraid any more."
"What's all over?" asked Katie, in a tone of alarm.
"What? Why—shure nothin'."
"There was some one in the room," said Mrs. Russell, in frightened tones.
"Some one in the room!" cried Katie, in a voice so full of terror that it became a positive shriek. "Oh! oh! oh! Who? who? What? what?"
Never was terror more eloquently depicted on any human face than on Katie's expressive countenance on this occasion. She flung herself into Dolores's arms and clung to her. Dolores said nothing, but clung to Katie in silence.
"Alarrums av this sort," said "His Majesty," "isn't shuited to their delicate, narvous systems—so they isn't. I've got a dhrop av whiskey about me, if—But I suppose they wouldn't care for it."