The clock ticked and struck through the hours; the people came and went as is the custom. When the hands approached the hour of one, Tim Burns arose.
“I wur goin’ till offer till sit up wid ye, Larry,” said he, “but as I have me job till go till in the mornin’ I mus’ git a bit av slape.”
“Much obliged, all the same,” said Larry. “Larkin an’ McGonagle are goin’ to stay with me.”
“I’ll be goin’ mesilf,” said Clancy, reaching for his hat. “I mus’ have me grocery open be four, be the day.”
There was a general arising, putting on of hats and shaking of hands with Larry; the women had gone long before; and when the clock struck again the three watchers were nodding together beside the kitchen range.
Chapter VII
“Oh they laid him away,
On one bleak Winter day,
An’ the sun he’ll never see more.”
Ballads of Back Streets.