McIlheny, smiling: "Well, that's loike a wooman, Mary; ye can't say it
ain't."

Mrs. McIlheny, grinning: "It's loike a mahn, too, Mike, by the same
token."

McIlheny: "Sure it's no bad joke on ye, sor."

Campbell, interposing: "I was having my laugh at him when your good
lady here noticed us. You see, I know his wife--she's my sister--and I
could understand just how she would do such a thing, and--ah, ha, ha,
ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! I don't think I shall ever get over it."

McIlheny: "Sure it _is_ good! Hu, hu, hu, hu! Mary, it's what ye'd
call a bull, if it was Irish, I'm thinkun'; an' it's no bad bull as it
is, my dear."

Mrs. McIlheny, laughing: "Ye're right there, Mike. It's as fine a bull
as ever there was."

Campbell: "And my friend here insisted on going over and speaking to
the lady, in hopes she could help him out of the difficulty. I suppose
he bungled it; he only wanted to ask her if she'd seen a cook here,
who had an appointment to go out of town with a gentleman. I'd been
joking him about it, and he thought he must do something; and I fancy
he made a mess of it. He was a good deal worked up. Ha, ha, ha! Ah,
ha, ha, ha!" Mr. and Mrs. McIlheny join in his laugh, and finally
Roberts himself.

The Colored Man who calls the Trains, coming and going: "Cars for