Maloney held a short consultation with himself. Then—"Hould up yer hand!" he said, bending over Dave with a knife. Dave thrust out his arm violently, knocked the instrument to the other side of the room, and kicked wickedly.
"The pison's wurrkin'," whispered Maloney quite loud.
"Oh, my gracious!" groaned Mother.
"The poor crathur," said Mrs. Maloney.
There was a pause.
"Phwhat finger's bit?" asked Maloney. Joe thought it was the littlest one of the lot.
He approached the sofa again, knife in hand.
"Show me yer finger," he said to Dave.
For the first time Dave spoke. He said:
"Damn y'—what the devil do y' want? Clear out and lea' me 'lone."
Maloney hesitated. There was a long silence. Dave commenced breathing heavily.
"It 's maikin' 'm slape," whispered Maloney, glancing over his shoulder at the women.
"Don't let him! Don't let him!" Mother wailed.
"Salvation to 's all!" muttered Mrs. Maloney, piously crossing herself.
Maloney put away the knife and beckoned to his man, who was looking on from the door. They both took a firm
