“I say, Bob, next month——”
“Next month, me bhoys, I shall not be here.”
They stared at him open-mouthed.
“What—you goin’ away for a holiday, Bob?”
Bob whittled away nonchalantly.
“I’m goin’ away, me bhoys, because th’ould devil up there has given me the sack—God forgive him for Oi won’t,” he ended piously.
“But—why?” they said aghast.
“He sez I don’t work. Me!” he said indignantly. “Me—an’ me wearin’ me hands to the bone for him the way I do. An’ he says I steal ’is fruit—me what takes only the few peaches he’d come an’ give me with his own hands if he was a gintleman at all, at all.”
“What a shame!” said the Outlaws.