eyelids with the shame of it in the public streets!"


CHAPTER IX

THE RETREAT

O'Grady asked no questions, but presently whispered to Terence: "Faith, ye
did it well, me boy."

"Did what well, O'Grady?"

"You need not tell me about it, Terence. I was expecting it. Didn't I
spake to ye the day before about it, and didn't I feel sure that something
would come of it? When that row began last night, I looked at you hard and
saw you wink at that young spalpeen, Dicky Ryan; and sure all the time
that we were standing there, formed up, I well-nigh burst the buttons off
me coatee in holding in me laughter, when everyone else was full of
excitement.

"'Are you ill, O'Grady?' the colonel said, for I had to sit meself down on
some steps and rock meself to and fro to aise meself. 'Is it sick ye are?'
'A sudden pain has saised me, Colonel,' says I, 'but I will be all right
in a minute.' 'Take a dram out of me flask,' says he; something must have
gone wrong wid ye.' I took a drink--"

"That I may be sure you did," Terence interrupted.

"--And thin told him that I felt better; but as we marched down through
the crowd and saw the fright of the men, and the women screaming in their