“Well, major, go on about Kit Megar,” urged Rooney.
“Coffee is in the dhrawin’-room, jintlemin,” yelled Fogarty, entering.
“Well, let it stay there, Luke.”
“Shall we join the ladies?” asked Casey, with a society air.
The colonel looked at the major, the major looked at the colonel, and both looked at the claret jugs.
“Oh! hang it all, no,” responded the major; “this wine is too good—much too good.”
“More power to yer elbow, Baymish! An old dog for a hard road,” laughed Tim Rooney. “Eh, Luke, this is a knowing old codger.”
Mr. Fogarty, being thus appealed to, gave a willing assent: “Up to every trick in the box.”
After the gallant warriors had sufficiently punished Casey’s cellar they repaired to the drawing-room. As they ascended the stairs they compared notes.
“Did you ever meet such a queer customer as this brother-in-law?”