Old Martin applied a piece of glowing turf to his pipe and sucked audibly before continuing.
"Don't I remimber ivery wurrd the Docthor shpoke," said Martin slowly—"och, the way he had with him.
"'The Kaiser is it?' sez he. 'What would ye be askin' for betther?' sez he. ''Tis this way and that way wid the Kaiser,' sez he, 'and he'll not be aisy till he's wiped Ballymurky off the map, so he would. And the German Emperor is as bad,' sez he. 'It's Bairrlin or Ballymurky, boys, so it is,' sez he; 'just that.
"'Is ut have the Germans over here in Ballymurky ye would?' sez he. 'Sure 'tis not butthermilk and praties they'd be contint with, Doolan, me boy,' sez he; 'faith 'tis your pig they'd be afther atin. And 'tis not you the Kaiser would be decoratin' with an iron cross; 'tis more like a lick of his shtick ye'd be afther gettin, Doolan—and the thrubble ye've taken with the rarin' of the crayther. Och, ye could nivver look the pig in the face again if ye shtayed.'"
Martin subsided a while to show me Doolan's pig, which was taking the air outside. "And that," he remarked, "is corrosive ividence of what I'm tellin' ye." The pig grunted his compliments, and Martin continued.
"'Wait till I tell ye what they did at Louvain,' sez the Doc. 'Whist now, till ye hear this,' sez he.
"'Och, 'twas black murther they did there, the villians! The currse of Crummle seize thim,' sez he. 'Arrah! hould yoursilf in, you there, Conlan,' sez he; 'go aisy, now,' sez he; 'sure they'll do worse here. 'Tis not satisfied with Louvain they'll be, Shamus; 'tis knockin' your cabin about your ears ye'll have them—and what will hersilf say to that?' sez he; 'sure, 'twill be the best vintilated cabin in Ireland, so it will.'
"'Is ut the German Emperor ye would have sittin' shmokin' his pipe in your cabin and fryin' sausages in your best pan, without so much as by your lave, and you waitin' on him, Mrs. Murphy?'
"'Sure, ye know it is not, Docthor dear,' sez she.
"'Drivin up and down the street in your side-car he'd be, Patsy Burrke, him and his ginerals, till your horse dropped dead on him, and divil a bit he'd care.