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Minnie's Bishop and Other Stories. G. A. Birmingham
Читать онлайн.Название Minnie's Bishop and Other Stories
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066422820
Автор произведения G. A. Birmingham
Жанр Документальная литература
Издательство Bookwire
The crowd cheered frenziedly. None of them knew what esto perpetua meant, nor, for that matter, did Mr. Sweeny himself. But they had heard the words before, for Mr. Sweeny always used them in his speeches, and they felt that they must be great and good words; words worthy of the loud- est cheers.
"I have bought this farm, but I have bought it to hold in trust for the Irish people—a sacred trust, as dear to me as my heart's blood. When the day of liberty dawns, when the wrongs of centuries shall at last be drenched in gore, then, gentlemen, then, on that great and glorious day, I shall step proudly forward and restore to the people of Ireland Mrs. Flanagan's farm. In the meanwhile let yous all subscribe liberally to the fund we're getting up for the widow and the orphan, the wounded soldiers in the war we're waging."
About ten o'clock that evening, Dr. Henaghan, hilarious and well satisfied, was shown into the room behind Mr. Sweeny's shop by Delia Flanagan, who fed the pigs.
"You did middling well to-day," he said; "I say you did middling well to-day, let the other man be who he will."
"Hold your gab," said Mr. Sweeny, "you're drunk again."
"I am not drunk, nor near drunk. I came round to get a drink out of you in honour of the success of the stratagem."
"Only for that Scotchman," growled Mr. Sweeny, "I'd have got the place for ten pound. But I'll be even with him yet."
"You will, begad, or with any other man."
"And the blasted landlord gets every penny of my money; gets thirty-five pounds out of me, all on account of that Scotchman. And the Widow Flanagan owes me money that I'll never see."
"There's the subscription they're getting up," said the doctor, "why can't you take that off of her?"
"I can, of course, and I will. But it won't be enough, nor near enough."
"Well, what's the good of talking? Let's have a drink, anyway."
"Delia," yelled Mr. Sweeny, "Delia Flanagan, get a quart of whiskey from the bar, and a couple of tumblers. Be quick about it now. When your old mother's washing the floors in the workhouse you'll have to be quicker at your work. I'll learn you to listen to me when I call."
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