Tim strode to the door, followed by his wife.
"Phat the blank, blank is this yellin' about? Phat d'ye mane swearin' loike that, Patsy? Oi'll knock yer blank little head aff if Oi catch ye swearin' agin."
"I don't care," stormed little Patsy, quite unafraid of his father when the other children fled. "It's that blank, blank Batcheese an' Tim there. They keep teasin' me an' Mayan all the time."
"Let me catch yez, ye little divils!" shouted Carroll after the children, who had got off to a safe distance. "Go on, Marion, an' sing phat ye loike. It's loike a burrd ye are, an' Oi loikes t' hear ye. An' Patsy, too, eh?"
He took the little cripple up in his arms very gently and held him for some minutes.
"You're a big man, dad, aint ye?" said Patsy, putting his puny arm round his father's hairy neck. "An' ye can lick the hull town, can't ye?"
"Who wuz tellin' ye that, Patsy?" asked his father, with a smile.
"I heard ye meself last week when the big row was on."
"Ye did, be dad! Thin Oi'm thinkin' ye do be hearin' too much."
"But ye can, dad, can't ye?" persisted the boy.