“Av coorse not!” asserted Phelim; “what fer wad she be afther poverizin’ hersilf? If the ould man’s money was all gone, sure he’d have none to use in buyin’ victuals an’ clo’es fer hissilf, let alone her.”
“And you weren’t intending to rob him of her as well as the money, eh?” queried Bangs, with a covert sneer.
Phelim’s only answer was a harsh laugh.
Bangs did not press the question. “I must go now,” he said, rising and drawing out his watch. “Good-night; I’ll be in again before long.”
The next morning, while Belinda sat in despairing wretchedness upon the raft, and Phelim, the hardened criminal, slept unconcernedly in his prison cell, Bangs wended his way to the butcher’s shop to secure for his dinner the cut of beef most to his liking. He was early, but found several customers there before him, among them Barney Nolan.
“Out of my way, fellow!” growled Bangs, pushing rudely past Barney. “There, Hicks,” to the butcher, who was busily at work, saw in hand, over the dead animal, “that’s the very cut I’m after.”
“Now, that’s rather a pity, isn’t it, colonel, seein’ it’s sold already?” returned Hicks, in a slightly sarcastic tone, taking it up with despatch, throwing it into the scales, then wrapping a piece of brown paper about it and bestowing it in Barney’s basket.
“Sir, I am not accustomed to such treatment!” cried Bangs, wrathfully. “I spoke for that particular cut before you had it sawed off.”
“Just so,” returned Hicks, with nonchalance; “but Nolan spoke for it full five minutes sooner; and it’s first come first served in this shop.”
“An Irish laborer, with a family to support, has no business to be buying the most expensive piece of beef in the market, when there’s plenty of cheaper to be had,” said Bangs, eyeing Barney with anger and disdain.