you up this night, Bothered Bill Donahue,” says Darby, “for it’s loath I’d be to go alone⸺”
He turned to speak just in time, for the tinker had gathered up his bag an’ had put his right foot on the cart-wheel, purparin’ for a jump. Darby clutched the lad be the back of his neck an’ joulted him back hard into the sate.
“Sit still, Wullum, till we raich me own house, avourneen,” he says, sarcastic, “for if ye thry that move agin I’ll not lave a whole bone in your body. I’ll never let it be said,” he says, lofty, “that I turned one who axed me for a night’s lodgin’ from me door,” he says. An’ as he spoke he wheeled the cart quick around in the road.
“Lave me down, Misther O’Gill! I think I’ll stop the night with Neddy McHale,” says Wullum, shiverin’. “Bridget don’t think I’m clane,” says he, as the pony started off.
“Who tould ye that, I’d like to know?” shouted Darby, growin’ fierce; “who dared say that of ye? You’re bothered, Wullum, you know, an’ so you misthrupit langwidge,” he says.
But Bill only cowered down sulky, an’ the pony galloped down the side lane intil the woods, strivin’
