“Ah! Don’t try that; it won’t work. I ain’t sore because I got the dinky-dink, but on’y because youse had a hand in it! You was me pal, wasn’t youse? Didn’t I usta sleep with youse? And didn’t we eat together? I borried yer coin when I was strapped, and lent youse mine when I had any. You knowed all about how it was with me and her, ye knowed it and done me dirt when me back was turned. That’s the part what hurts, an I’ve broke trainin’ to come here and lick youse, Murphy—to lick youse till ye beg!”
Larry drew back, frowning into the other’s flushed face.
“I don’t know what ye mean,” said he, sharply. “Youse’re a friend o’ mine, Larkin, and I’ll stand for all kinds o’ talk from ye, but, say, if ye go t’rowin’ any punches my way, I’ll try to give ye a run for yer trouble.”
It was then that Rosie came out of the church. She saw, with frightened eyes, the angry and threatening gestures, and caught the high, sharp tones of their voices. She hurried forward, her heart palpitating, realizing at once the cause of the quarrel.
“Oh, Jimmie,” she exclaimed. “Have you got back home!”
“Oh, yes,” said he mockingly: “I’ve come back. I just wanted to see Larry, that’s all.”
“Don’t ask Larry about it,” she pleaded, eagerly. “He don’t know a thing. Let’s walk down toward McTurpin’s, and I’ll tell you—”
Larkin laughed and interrupted her. “Gee!” exclaimed he, “is it that bad, eh? Is he a-goin’ to hide behind yer skirts?”
“I ain’t a-goin to hide, and I ain’t got no reason to hide,” stormed Murphy. “Come on, whatever it is! We’ll settle this right here.”
“Don’t fight,” said Rosie, frightened more than ever. “Look you’re a-most in front of the church. Honest to God, Larry, I couldn’t help it! Me father got it around: He told everybody.”