So knocking stoutly at the window, he
caused the melody to subside and the shutter to open. When the priest,
looking out, saw Dan Loftus in his deshabille, I believe he thought for
a moment it was something from the neighbouring churchyard.
However, his reverence came out and stood on the steps, enveloped in a
hospital aroma of broiled bones, lemons, and alcohol, and shaking his
visitor affectionately by the hand--for he bore no malice, and the
Lenten ditty he quite forgave as being no worse in modern parlance than
an unhappy 'fluke'--was about to pull him into the parlour, where there
was ensconced, he told him, 'a noble friend of his.' This was 'Pat
Mahony, from beyond Killarney, just arrived--a man of parts and
conversation, and a lovely singer.'
But Dan resisted, and told his tale in an earnest whisper in the hall.
The priest made his mouth into a round queer little O, through which he
sucked a long breath, elevating his brows, and rolling his eyes slowly
about.
'A jewel! And Nutter, of all the men on the face of the airth--though I
often heerd he was a fine shot, and a sweet little fencer in his youth,
an' game, too--oh, be the powers! you can see that still--game to the
back-bone--and--whisht a bit now--who's the other?'
'Lieutenant O'Flaherty.
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