"Aw, ferget it! Tim thrust back his chair. "Come on, Fan." He had been aware of the object of Barney's humor, and he wished to take her away from it, as well as to escape himself.
She kept her eyes fixed on the pier. "Thanks," she said. "I 'm comfor'ble where I am."
Tim expressed his unconcern by tilting his hat down on his forehead contemptuously as he turned away. And she expressed her defiance in a little upward thrust of her small chin as she looked around to see him go.
"Ta-ta!" Barney called after him. The orchestra struck up "Tammany." He beamed at the girl. "Oh joy! Ain't we happy!"
"You seem to be havin' a good time."
"Well, come on in, then," he said. "I don't want it all to myself. I ain't selfish. I 'm gettin' lonesome."
"Yeh young imp," his mother scolded. "Why d' yeh pester yer brother so?"
He clasped his hands behind his head, grinning at her fondly. "I 'm helpin' him to ferget the wrongs of Ireland. You 're all right. You 've got a new silk waist. But Tim 's got nothin' to get gay on—except the promises of Uncle Mike."
This last was a bait cast to his father, who rose to it at once. "Dang little good he 'll get o' thim," he said, bitterly.
"Whist now!" Mrs. Maloney put in. "We 'll none of us get good o' talkin' that way. Hold yer peace."
