The Meet of the Beagles.
From “Patsy.”
By H. de Vere Stacpoole.
Directly Patsy had left the news that the “quality” were coming to the meet and returned to the house the crowd in front of the Castle Knock Inn thickened.
Word of the impending event went from cabin to cabin, and Mr. Mahony, the chimney sweep, put his head out of his door.
“What’s the news, Rafferty?” cried Mr. Mahony.
“Mimber of Parlymint and all the quality comin’ to the meet!” cried a ragged-looking ruffian who was running by.
“Sure, it’ll be a big day for Shan Finucane,” said Mrs. Mahony, who was standing behind her husband in the doorway with a baby in her arms.
Mr. Mahony said nothing for a while, but watched the crowd in front of the inn.
“Look at him,” said Mr. Mahony, breaking out at last—“look at him in his ould green coat! Look at him with the ould whip undher his arm, and the boots on his feet not paid for, and him struttin’ about as if he was the Marqus of Waterford! Holy Mary! did yiz ever see such an objick! Mr. Mullins!”