“An’ you’re wonderful happy,” cried I, from the uncertain situation of his shoulder.
“Happy? That’s the word, Davy. I’m happy! And why?”
“Tell me.”
“I’ve done a good deed. I’ve saved a man’s right hand. I’ve done a good deed for once,” he repeated, between his teeth, “by God!”
There was something contagious in all this; and (I say it by way of apology) I was ever the lad to catch at a rousing phrase.
“A good deed!” I exclaimed. “By God, you’ll do——”
He thrashed me soundly on the spot.