um O’Gill had a squint in his right eye, and his thin legs bowed like hoops on a barrel.
If you have ever at night been groping your way through a dark room, and got a sudden, hard bump on the forehead from the edge of the door, you can undherstand the feelings of the knowledgeable man.
“Take that picture out!” he said, hoarsely, as soon as he could speak. “An’ will someone kindly inthrojuice me to the man who med it? Bekase,” he says, “I intend to take his life! There was never a crass-eyed O’Gill since the world began,” says he.
Think of his horror an’ surprise whin he saw the left eye of Wullum O’Gill twist itself slowly over toward his nose and squint worse than the right eye.
Purtending not to see this, an’ hoping no one else did, Darby fiercely led the way over to the other wall.
Fronting him stood the handsome picture of Honoria O’Shaughnessy, an’ she dhressed in a shuit of tin clothes like the knights of ould used to wear—armour I think they calls it.
She hildt a spear in her hand with a little flag on the blade, an’ her smile was proud and high.
“Take that likeness out, too,” says Darby, very
