"Good evening, Pat, and the top of the evening to you, Mrs. Murphy. You see I have brought Mike safely home to you."
Alvin was a favorite with the couple, who warmly greeted him. The boy was fond of calling at the humble dwelling and chatting with the two. Sometimes he took a meal with them, insisting that the food was much better than was provided by the professional chef in his own home. No surer means of reaching the heart of the honest woman could have been thought of, and though she insisted that the lad had kissed the blarney stone, she was none the less pleased by his kind words.
"Mither, I'm that near starved," said Mike, dropping into the nearest chair, "that I should perish if I had a dozen more paces to walk."
"Yer supper has been waiting for more than an hour, and if ye'll pass into the kitchen ye may eat your fill."
Mike took a step in the direction, but was halted by his father.
"Where is the 'bacca I ordered ye to bring from Squirrel Island?"
"They're out of the kind ye smoke, dad, and that which the storekeeper showed me was that poor I wouldn't have anything to do wid the same."
"They're expicting the one from King George that ye were looking fur, but it won't be in until the next steamer."
The elder Murphy looked at his son with a quizzical expression and then glanced at the hat which had been hung on a peg behind the door.
"Traded me owld one for it, but I had to go through a foight before the ither chap would give his consint."
"So ye've been in anither foight, have ye, and only well landed in Ameriky."
"I niver had a foiner one," replied the son, still standing in the open door which led to the kitchen; "it makes me heart glad when I think of the same."
Mike was quick to seize the opportunity for which he was waiting. With a downcast expression, he humbly asked:
"Do ye expict me to win _ivery_ time, dad?"
"Av coorse I do; haven't I trained ye up to that shtyle of fightin'?"
"Suppose, dad, the ither chap is bigger and stronger--what do ye ixpict of me?"
"Ye know yoursilf what to expict when ye disgraces the name of Murphy."
Laying his pipe on the table beside which his wife was sitting, the parent grimly rose and moved toward the door on the other side of the room that opened into the small apartment where the firewood was stored from wetting by rain. The three knew the meaning of the movement: he was seeking the heavy strap that was looped over a big spike. He had brought it from Tipperary two years before and must have kept it against the coming of his heir, knowing he would have use for it.