Old Donovan seized it, examined it, then sent it round, to satisfy himself that it was a bona fide guinea.
On finding that it was good, he became blank a little; his laugh lost its strength, much of his jollity was instantly neutralized, and his face got at least two inches longer. Larry now had the laugh against him, and the company heartily joined in it.
“Come, Paddy,” said Larry, “go an!—ha, ha, ha!”
Paddy fished for half a minute through the glove; and, after what was apparently a hard chase, brought up another guinea, which he laid down.
“Come, Phelim!” said he, and his eye brightened again with a hope that Phelim would fail.
“Good agin!” said Phelim, thundering down another, which was instantly subjected to a similar scrutiny.
“You'll find it good,” said Larry. “I wish we had a sackful o' them. Go an, Paddy. Go an, man, who's afeard?”
“Sowl, I'm done,” said Donovan, throwing down the purse with a hearty laugh—“give me your hand, Larry. Be the goold afore us, I thought to do you. Sure these two guineas is for my rint, an' we mustn't let them come atween us at all.”
“Now,” said Larry, “to let you see that my son's not widout something to begin the world wid—Phelim, shill out the rest o' the yallow boys.”
“Faix, you ought to dhrink the ould woman's health for this,” said Phelim. “Poor ould crathur, many a long day she was savin' up these for me. It's my mother I'm speakin' about.”