The cries of:
"There's the the dirtily blaguard agin. Look out there, Mrs. Murphy,
etc."
All these salutations were received by the imperturbable Pat with smiles
and bows and a cheery remark, as he dodged a dead fish or some other
missile aimed at his head. When little farther down the Lane, Pat said:
"Look out now, Captain, do ye see the fat woman down there? She's a
beauty an' Oi'n goin' to shtir her up. Ye'll hear a flow av iloquence
such as ye niver heard in yure loife, sur. Oi'm sorry she's on yure side
as the car, sur. Droivin' up, sur, ye wud not be so liable to get hit."
At this moment, by a dexterous twist of the horse's head, the iron step
struck the barrel and scattered the contents, while Pat leaned across
and said:
"Ye'll excuse me, Mrs. Olahan, that was an accident."
"Oh it's ye," exclaimed the lady addressed, as she hurled the cup that
she was drinking tea out of at Pat. Then a torrent of language burst
forth which could be heard far down the Lane as they drove quickly
through; but not fast enough to escape the fusillade of decayed fish
and every other missile, even to the head of a barrel, which could be
hurled by Mrs. Olahan and her sympathizing friends. When they emerged
from the Lane, Pat turned around and said:
"Air ye bruised, Captain?"
"No," said Paul, "but I don't want any more of that kind of diversion.
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