A CHILD OF THE JAGO
ture on his window-sill, hurled down flower pots. On the stairs, Billy Leary, scaling the barricade, was flung from top to bottom, and had to be carried home. And then Pip Walsh's missis scattered the besiegers on the pavement below with a kettle-full of boiling water.
There was a sudden sortie of Ranns from Jago Court, but it profited nothing: for the party was small, and, its advent being unexpected, there was a lack of prompt co-operation from the house. The Learys held the field.
Down the middle of Old Jago Street came Sally Green: red-faced, stripped to the waist, dancing, hoarse and triumphant. Nail-scores wide as the finger striped her back, her face, and her throat, and she had a black eye; but in one great hand she dangled a long bunch of clotted hair, as she whooped defiance to the Jago. It was a trophy newly rent from the scalp of Norah Walsh, champion of the Rann
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