“I’m dommed if I’ll do it, whin you’re opposed to me doin’ it, sur. Troth, I heard ivery word ye said to the ould thafe, and says I to meself, if I do wan thing that Mr. Harrington’s set aginst, and he the gintleman that befrinded me and mine in the black throuble, may the divil fly away wid me.”
“Driscoll, take that gold piece back to Mr. Atkins, and tell him you’ve thought better of it. Don’t say another word to him but that. Have no quarrel with him. Say that, put the money on his desk, and leave his office. Do you understand?”
“Yis, sur. I’ll do it.”
“Good. You shall not lose by it. Take this from me.”
Harrington drew from his pocket the money he had received from Muriel, and counted him out twenty-five dollars.
“Here, Driscoll,” he said, holding out the bills to him.
“Oh, begorra, Mr. Harrington, but I’ll niver take it from you. Plaise don’t offer it to me.”
“Driscoll, I insist upon your taking it. You shall.”
He seized the stevedore’s hand, and put the money into it.