"Ye passed your word to Miss Elleney a while ago that it was her ye'd have for your wife," said Pat firmly. "Are ye goin' to stick to your promise or are ye not?"
"Get up out o' that, ye ruffian," spluttered Brian. "What business is it of yours anyway?"
"Ruffian yourself!" said Pat. And he heaved up Mr. Brennan's shoulders a little way, and then loosed his hold suddenly, so that the fine curly head bumped once more against the tin pails. "Will ye gi' me a straight answer, or will ye not?"
"I'll pay ye out for this when I get upon my legs!" growled Brian. "As for that young lady, she knows very well I can't—"
"Ye can't what?" cried Pat, rolling a threatening eye at him.
"I can't keep my word," said Mr. Brennan, with as much dignity as was compatible with his position.
"Ye mean ye won't, I s'pose," remarked Pat, with ominous calm.
"Well, then, I won't!" shouted Brian, heaving himself up at the same time with a futile attempt to rid himself of his adversary.
"Ah!" retorted Pat, tightening his grasp on the powerless shoulders, and repeating his previous manoeuvre with such success that his victim saw a multitude of stars. "Ye won't, won't ye? No; but ye will!—I tell ye, ye will! Ye will, me fine gentleman!"
With each reiteration of the phrase the unfortunate Brian's head received fresh damage, and Pat, who was warming to his work, had just announced that he was going to give Mr. Brian the finest thrashing he ever had in his life, when Elleney, who had hitherto been petrified with alarm and amazement, rushed to the rescue.