She did so; but whispered something in his ear as she passed, which made him so furious that I thought he would have knocked her down, had she not adroitly escaped him by shutting the door after her, and holding the handle on the outside so tightly that his efforts to open it and follow her were abandoned in a moment as fruitless.
"What is the meaning of all this?" said I, severely. "Did you mean to strike the girl?"
"Strike the caileen, yir honour? Oh, the Lord forbid! but, if I cotch her upon the stairs out o' yir honor's sight, maybe I wudn't give her cherry-lips a pogue (yir honor knows what a pogue is) that wud drive her sweetheart crazy for a month o' Sundays!"
"Where have you been all this while?" inquired I, not willing to notice his speech.
"Oh then, sure!" said he, in a most mournful tone, "masther, I've had the divil's own time of it, sir, since you were so unfortunate as to part with me, yir honor, on that same journey to Bally—Bally—Bally—bad luck to it! what do they call it?"
"What has happened?" inquired I, anxiously, thinking he might have later news than my post-letter of three days before had conveyed.
"Happened, yir honour! to who?" said Darby, with a wild look of concern. "I hope the family, Christians, bastes, and all, not barrin' the pig that had the measles, are in good health, and well to do as when I left them. Has the bracket hin taken to standin' upon one leg yit, sir, since she lost the other through that baste of a bull-dog belongin' to the parson? I'd lay three of her eggs she'll never forget the affront he put upon her then!"
"We are all well here," said I; "but give me some account of what has befallen you on your journey, that delayed you so long."
"Troth, an' I'll tell ye, masther," replied Darby, "in no time. Have ye five minutes to spare, sir?"
"Yes," said I; "let me hear."