“That’s true indeed, but let us forget all about the contrary creatures for a little while, and I will tell you a story that the Emperor of Russia would give his two thumbs and two little fingers to hear.”
“And what is it all about?” said Padna.
“’Tis the story of a man with a wooden leg,” said Micus.
“Well,” said Micus, as he filled his pipe, “as I was sauntering home the other night, I dropped into the Half Way House to get a toothful of something to keep out the cold, when lo and behold! who should come in and flop down beside me but a one-legged sailor and he minus an eye as well, and no more hair on his head than you’d find on a yellow turnip. He was the first to speak, and he up and ses: ‘Good night, stranger,’ ses he, as he poked the fire with his wooden leg, and lit his pipe with a piece of his old straw hat.
“‘Good night kindly,’ ses I.
“‘’Tis a cold kind of night,’ ses he.
“‘The devil of a cold night entirely,’ ses I.
“‘’Tis indeed,’ ses he, ‘and a bad night for a poor man who has neither friends nor relations, or one to bother their heads about him, or even the price of a drink inself.’
“‘If ’tis a drink you want,’ ses I, ‘all you have to do is to call for it, and I will pay. What will you have?’ ses I.