“An’ sure, is it out drivin’ yez’ed be goin’ so arly on Sunday mornin’, Jerry?”
“On’y a little spin,” said the youth. “I want to try out a new skate what the old gent bought at the bazar.” He rubbed away in industrious silence for a moment and then, nodding toward a clean-looking brick house at the end of the court, inquired:
“Did youse see Johnnie Kerrigan go in?”
“Is it young Kerrigan go intill Murphy’s!” Mrs. Nolan seemed dumbfounded.
“Not the saloon-keeper’s son that do be at the ’torneyin’!” cried Mrs. Burns.
“That’s the guy,” said Jerry. “He went in a couple o’ minutes ago.”
Mrs. Nolan looked at her neighbour, and the latter lady returned the look with interest.
“I declare till God!” said the former, “Iv that don’t bate all I iver heerd since the day I wur born. Sure an’ his father an’ owld Larry have been bitter at wan another for years.”
“It’s forgivin’ his enemies he’ll be doin’ now that the breath do be lavin’ him,” said Mrs. Burns. “Divil the fear av him forgivin’ me the bit av rint I owes him, though,” she added bitterly.
“There’s worse than old Murphy,” said Jerry. “Kelly’s got his net out after the court, an’ if he lands it, it won’t be long before youse find it out, either.”