"
"Ay, around dozen o' them. How can you forget it?"
The idiot in the corner here gave a loud snore, but composed himself to
sleep, as if insensible to all that passed.
"Throth, an' I do forget it. Now, Phelim, you'll not go till you take a
cup o' tay wid myself. Throth, I do forget it, Phelim darlin', jewel."
Phelim's face now assumed a very queer expression. He twisted his
features into all possible directions; brought his mouth first round to
one ear and then to the other; put his hand, as if in great pain, on the
pit of his stomach; lifted one knee up till it almost touched his
chin, then let it down, and instantly brought up the other in a similar
manner.
"Phelim, darlin', what ails you?" inquired the tender old nymph.
"Wurrah, man alive, aren't you well?"
"Oh, be the vestment," said Phelim, "what's this at all? Murdher,
sheery, what'll I do! Oh, I'm very bad! At death's door, so I am! Be
gorra, Mrs. Doran, I must be off."
"Wurrah, Phelim dear, won't you stop till we settle everything?"
"Oh, purshuin' to the ha'p'orth I can settle till I recover o' this
murdherin' colic! All's asthray wid me in the inside. I'll see you--I'll
see you--_Hanim an dioul!_ what's this?--I must be off like a shot--oh,
murdher sheery?--but--but--I'll see you to-morrow. In the mane time,
I'm--I'm--for ever oblaged to you for--for--lendin' me the--loan of--oh,
by the vestments, I'm a gone man!--for lendin' me the loan of the ten
guineas--Oh, I'm gone!"
Phelim disappeared on uttering these words, and his strides on passing
out of the house were certainly more rapid and vigorous than those of
a man laboring under pain.
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