"Bringin' wild bastes into a gintleman's dacent house, as if it was a barn, that's manners!" she muttered. "Av I can get a clout at that dog, I'll lave him as bare as a plucked thrush!"
At this instant a violent crash of crockery-ware was heard in the regions of the kitchen.
"Holy Vargin! but the baste is on the dhresser! I'll dhress the villian!" and seizing upon a very stout ash stick which stood in the hall, she darted rapidly in the direction from whence the dire sounds were proceeding.
"Hold hard, woman!" cried Podgers. "He's a very valuable animal. I'll make good any damage. Use your authority, Brown," he added, appealing to me. "She's a terrible person this; she'd stop at nothing."
Ere I could interpose, a violent skirmishing took place, in which such exclamations as "Take that, ye divvle! Ye'll brake me chaney, will ye? There's chaney for ye!" followed by very audible whacks, which, if they had fulfilled their intended mission, would very speedily have sent the dog to the happy hunting-grounds of his race. One well-directed blow, however, made its mark, and was succeeded by a whoop of triumph from Miss Byrne and a yell of anguish from her vanquished foe.
"Gelang, ye fireside spaniel! Ye live on the neighbours. How dar' ye come in here? Ye'll sup sorrow. I'll give a couple more av I can get at ye."
Podgers rushed to the rescue, and, after a very protracted and exciting chase, during which a well-directed blow, intended by Bridget for the sole use and benefit of the dog, had alighted on the head of its master, succeeded in effecting a capture. This, too, was done under embarrassing circumstances; for the dog had sought sanctuary within the sacred precincts of Miss Byrne's sleeping apartment, beneath the very couch upon which it was the habit of that lady to repose her virgin form after the labours of the day; and her indignation knew no bounds when Podgers, utterly unmindful of the surroundings, hauled forth the dog.
"There's no dacency in man nor baste. They're all wan, sorra a lie in it!"
At this crisis Podgers must have developed his pecuniary resources, for her tone changed with marvellous rapidity, and her anger was melted into a well-feigned contrition for having used her fists so freely.
"Poor baste! shure it's frightened he is. I wudn't hurt a fly, let alone an illigant tarrier like that. Thry a bit o' beefsteak in regard o' yer eye, sir. Ye must have hot it agin somethin' hard; it will be as black as a beetle in tin minits."