The Corner House Girls at School | Page 9

as broad an Irish brogue as ever I heard!"
CHAPTER IV
NEALE O'NEIL GETS ESTABLISHED
Perhaps Billy Bumps was as much amazed as anybody when he heard what seemed to be the pig expressing his dissatisfaction in a broad Irish brogue on the other side of the fence.
The old goat's expression was indeed comical. He backed away from the hole through which he had just shot the raider head-first, shook his own head, stamped, and seemed to listen intently to the hostile language.
"Be th' powers! 'Tis a dirthy, mane thrick, so ut is! An' th' poor pig kem t'roo th' hole like it was shot out of a gun."
"It's Mr. Murphy!" whispered Ruth, almost as much overcome with laughter as Agnes herself.
Neale O'Neil was frankly amazed; but in a moment he, like the girls, jumped to the right conclusion. The cobbler had run to the rescue of his pet. He had seized it by the ears as it was trying to crowd under the fence, and tugged, too. When old Billy Bumps had released his pigship, the latter had bowled the cobbler over.
Mr. Con Murphy possessed a vocabulary of most forceful and picturesque words, well colored with the brogue he had brought on his tongue from "the ould dart." Mr. Murphy's "Irish was up" and when he got his breath, which the pig had well nigh knocked out of him, the little old cobbler gave his unrestrained opinion of the power that had shot the pig under the fence.
Ruth could not allow the occurrence to end without an explanation. She ran to the fence and peered over.
"Oh, Mr. Murphy!" she cried. "You're not really hurt?"
"For the love av mercy!" ejaculated the cobbler. "Niver tell me that youse was the one that pushed the pig through the fince that har-rd that he kem near flyin' down me t'roat? Ye niver could have done it, Miss Kenway--don't be tillin' me. Is it wan o' thim big Jarmyn guns youse have got in there, that the pa-apers do be tillin' erbout?"
He was a comical looking old fellow at best, and out here at this early hour, with only his trousers slipped on over his calico nightshirt, and heelless slippers on his feet, he cut a curious figure indeed.
Mr. Con Murphy was a red-faced man, with a fringe of sandy whiskers all around his countenance like a frame, having his lips, chin and cheeks smoothly shaven. He had no family, lived alone in the cottage, and worked very hard at his cobbler's bench.
"Why, Mr. Murphy!" cried Ruth. "Of course I didn't push your pig through the fence."
"It was Billy Bumps," giggled Agnes.
"Who is that, thin?" demanded Mr. Murphy, glaring at Neale O'Neil. "That young felley standin' there, I dunno?"
"No. I only cracked your pig over the nose with this fence paling," said the boy. "I wonder you don't keep the pig at home."
"Oh, ye do, do ye?" cried the little Irishman. "Would ye have me lock him into me spare bedroom?"
"I would if he were mine--before I'd let him be a nuisance to the neighbors," declared Neale O'Neil.
"Oh, Neale!" interposed Ruth. "You mustn't speak so. Of course the pig is annoying----"
"He's a nuisance. Anybody can see that," said the boy, frankly.
"'Tis a smart lad ye ar-re," sneered Mr. Murphy. "Show me how ter kape the baste at home. The fince is not mine, whativer ye say. If it isn't strong enough to kape me pig out----"
"I'll fix it for you in half a day--if you'll pay me for it," interrupted Neale O'Neil.
"How will ye do ut? and how much will ye tax me?" queried the cautious cobbler.
"I'd string a strand of barbed wire all along the bottom of the fence. That will stop the pig from rooting, I'll be bound."
The old Irishman rubbed his chin reflectively. "'Twill cost a pretty penny," he said.
"Then," said Neale O'Neil, winking at the girls, "let's turn Billy Bumps loose, and the next time the pig comes in I hope he'll butt his head off!"
"Hi!" shouted Mr. Murphy. "Who's this Billy Bumps ye air talkin' so fast about?"
"That's our goat," explained Agnes, giggling.
Mr. Murphy's roving eyes caught sight of the billy, just then reflectively nibbling an old shoe that had been flung into the pen.
"Is that the baste that shot me pig under the fince?" he yelped.
Billy Bumps raised his head, shook his venerable beard, and blatted at the cobbler.
"He admits the accusation," chuckled Agnes.
"Shure," said Mr. Murphy, wagging his head, "if that thunderin' ould pi-rat of a goat ever gits a good whack at me pig, he'd dr-rive him through a knothole! Kem over and see me by and by, la-a-ad," he added, to Neale, his eyes twinkling, "and we'll bargain about that barbed wire job."
"I'll be over to see you, sir," promised the white-haired boy.
For Ruth had nudged his elbow