“I quite forgot to put any money in my pocket,” he observed. “But you can pay him, Daley.”
“I have not a stiver,” said Daley, feeling first in one pocket, then in the other.
“Well, we must come upon you, Fitz,” I said.
“Faith, I left my purse in my other small-clothes,” he answered.
“Is there any cash in it?” asked Daley, with a wink.
“Well, but the man must be paid,” I said. “I’ll tell Phil Kearney,” and, looking out of the window, I called to him.
“Sorra a ha’p’orth of coppers there are in my pocket, seeing not a sight of coin have I got from the master this many a day,” he answered.
I then turned to Larry, hoping that he might be better off than the rest of us.
“Faith, Mr Terence, it’s a long time since I have had a coin to boast of, and if I had that same, I’d not be after chucking it to an old spalpeen for just opening a gate.”
Phil at this juncture, observing that the gate was swinging slowly back, lashed on his horses, and attempted to pass through, on which the old soldier seized them by their heads; but Phil, not inclined to be stopped, furiously flourishing his whip, bestowed his lashes, not only on their backs, but on the shoulders of the gate-keeper. Fitzgerald, who was the most peppery of the party, tried to get out to join in the fight, but fortunately could not open the carriage door. Just then the gate-keeper’s wife hurried out, and joined her husband in hurling abuse at us.