Hyacinth. Ah, gintlemen--Billy Clinton, you thievin' villain!
you don't pay attention; I say, gintlemen, if I myself could deduct
a score of years from the period of my life, I should endeavor to run
through the conjugations of _amo_ in society wid that pearl of beauty.
In the mane time--"
"Here's her health, masther," returned Keenan, "an' her father's too,
an' Hycy Burke's into the bargain--is there any more o' them? Well, no
matter." Then turning to his antagonist, he added, "I say agin, thin,
that a Mullin's not a match for a Keenan, nor never was--no, nor never
will be! That's the chat! and who's afeard to say it? eh, masther?"
"It's a lie!" shouted one of the opposite party; "I'm able to lick e'er
a Keenan that ever went on nate's leather--an' that's my chat."
A blow from Keenan in reply was like a spark to gunpowder. In a moment
the cavern presented a scene singularly tragic-comic; the whole party
was one busy mass of battle, with the exception of Ted and Batt, and the
wife of the latter, who, having first hastily put aside everything that
might be injured, stood enjoying the conflict with most ferocious glee,
the schoolmaster having already withdrawn himself to his chair. Even
Barney Broghan, the fool, could not keep quiet, but on the contrary,
thrust himself into the quarrel, and began to strike indiscriminately at
all who came in his way, until an unlucky blow on the nose happening,
to draw his claret very copiously, he made a bound up behind the sill,
uttering a series of howlings, as from time to time he looked at his own
blood, that were amusing in the extreme.
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