The crowd round the inn was growing bigger and bigger. Sneer as he might, Mr. Mahony could not but perceive that Shan was having the centre of the stage, a worshipping audience, and free drinks.
Suddenly he turned to his offspring, who were crowding behind him, and singling out Billy, the eldest:
“Put the dunkey to,” said Mr. Mahony.
“Sure, daddy,” cried the boy in astonishment, “it’s only the tarriers.”
“Put the dunkey to!” thundered his father, “or it’s the end of me belt I’ll be brightenin’ your intellects with.”
“There’s two big bags of sut in the cart and the brushes,” said Billy, as he made off to do as he was bidden.
“Lave them in,” said Mr. Mahony; “it’s only the tarriers.”
In a few minutes the donkey, whose harness was primitive and composed mainly of rope, was put to, and the vehicle was at the door.
“Bob!” cried his wife as he took his seat.
“What is it?” asked Mr Mahony, taking the reins.