“Is it a good tack?”
“I’ve me doubts,” shaking his head gravely and taking several wicked whiffs of his dhudheen. “He’s afther axin’ for change, an’ that luks like a naygur.”
“Thrue for ye, Misther Malone! Did ye rouse him at all?” asked the other in an anxious tone. He expected the return of the “forriner” and was taking soundings.
“Rouse him! Begorra, ye might as well be endayvorin’ to rouse a griddle. I’m heart scalded wud him. I soothered him wud stories av the good people, leprechauns, an’ banshees until I was as dhry as a cuckoo.”
“Musha, thin, he must be only fit for wakin’ whin you cudn’t rouse him, Mickey Malone.”
“I’d as lieve have a sack o’ pitaties on me car as—” He stopped short and plunged the pipe into his pocket, as the object of the discussion suddenly appeared upon the steps.
“Here is a sovereign for the car and half a sovereign for yourself,” exclaimed the young officer, tossing the coins to the expectant Malone.
“Shure you won’t forget the little mare, Captain?”
“Forget her? Not likely, or you either, Patsey.”
“Ye’ll throw her a half a crown for to dhrink yer helth, Major?”