'Ay,' cried Roach, backing up the joke (a good old one, and not yet
quite off the hooks), 'Mr. Loftus sings, I'll take my davy--I've heard
him!'
Loftus was shy, simple, and grotesque, and looked like a man who could
not sing a note. So when he opened his eyes, looked round, and blushed,
there was a general knocking of glasses, and a very flattering clamour
for Mr. Loftus's song.
But when silence came, to the surprise of the company he submitted,
though with manifest trepidation, and told them that he would sing as
the company desired. It was a song from a good old writer upon fasting
in Lent, and was, in fact, a reproof to all hypocrisy. Hereupon there
was a great ringing of glasses and a jolly round of laughter rose up in
the cheer that welcomed the announcement. Father Roach looked queer and
disconcerted, and shot a look of suspicion at Devereux, for poor Dan
Loftus had, in truth, hit that divine strait in a very tender spot.
The fact is, Father Roach was, as Irish priests were sometimes then, a
bit of a sportsman. He and Toole used occasionally to make mysterious
excursions to the Dublin mountains.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90