well, he couldn't catch a hedge tailor far or near, only poor lame Andy
Oulahan, who was burying his wife, rest her sowl, the very moment Jerry
got a howld of him. Well, Jerry was wild that the tailors were so
scarce, so he laid his hands on Andy, dragged him away from the corpse
and all the illigant enthertainment of the funeral, and never let him
out of sight till he'd put on the last button."

"Oh, Mr Blake!" said Guss, "you did not take the man away from his dead
wife?"

"Indeed I did not, Miss O'Kelly: Andy'd no such good chance; his wife's
to the fore this day, worse luck for him. It was only his mother he was
burying."

"But you didn't take him away from his mother's funeral?"

"Oh, I did it according to law, you know. I got Bingham to give me a
warrant first, before I let the policeman lay a hand on him."

"Now, General, you've really made no breakfast at all," said the
hospitable hostess: "do let Guss give you a hot cup of coffee."

"Not a drop more, Mrs O'Kelly. I've done more than well; but, if you'll
allow me, I'll just take a crust of bread in my pocket."

"And what would you do that for?--you'll be coming back to lunch, you
know."

"Is it lunch, Mrs O'Kelly, pray don't think of troubling yourself to
have lunch on the table. Maybe we'll be a deal nearer Creamstown than