Fitzpatrick. "Mishtress Timothy
Fitzpatrick, Monaghan that was, the Monaghans o' Ballinghalereen,
an owld family, poor as Job's turkey, but proud as the divil,
an' wance the glory o' Mayo. An' this," she added, indicating
her spouse with a jerk of her thumb, "is Timothy Fitzpatrick,
me husband, a dacent man in his way. Timothy, where's yer manners?
Shtand up an' do yer duty."
Tim struggled to his feet, embarrassed with the burden
of Paulina's baby, and pulled his forelock.
"And my name," said the Russian, answering Timothy's salutation
with a profound bow, "is Michael Kalmar, with respect to you and
Mr. Vichpatrick."
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was evidently impressed.
"An' proud I am to see ye in me house," she said, answering his
bow with a curtsey. "Tim, ye owl ye! Why don't ye hand his honour
a chair? Did ye niver git the air o' a gintleman before?"
It took some minutes to get the company settled, owing to the
reluctance of the Russian to seat himself while the lady was
standing, and the equal reluctance of Mrs. Fitzpatrick to take
her seat until she had comfortably settled her guest.
"I come to you, Mrs. Vichpatrick, on behalf of my children."
"An' fine childer they are, barrin' the lad is a bit av a limb betimes.
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