I mentioned to Doyle this morning that
Simpkins intended to marry Miss King. Doyle evidently told several
other people, for half the town was out to cheer us as we passed
through on our way from Donard. When Simpkins sneaked back at about
six o'clock this evening, looking like a whipped dog, there was sure to
have been a large crowd to meet him. I said he was to tell Doyle the
result as he passed; but whether he did or not, Doyle is sure to have
found it out before night. How do you suppose Simpkins will be
feeling?"
The Major chuckled.
"And what do you suppose will happen?" said Meldon.
"I don't know. They'll laugh at him, I expect."
"Laugh isn't the word," said Meldon. "They'll get out the town band
and play tunes under his window half the night. He won't be able to
put his nose outside the door without being met by a tribe of small
boys grinning. There isn't a woman or a girl in the place, from Sabina
Gallagher up, but will be making fun of him. Doyle and O'Donoghue and
all the police will call round to condole with him. No man could stand
it for a week. He'll go to-morrow, and have his luggage sent after
him.
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