MRS. FENNELL
Accidents will happen, Sergeant.
SERGEANT
They will, and disasters too, if you don't hold your
tongue.
PETER DWYER
Order, order.
SERGEANT HEALY (_continuing_)
Well, in with me to the house without a moment's
delay, and what did I see but Richard Fennell sitting
in an easy chair and smoking a cigar and looking as
happy an' contented as a Protestant after a meal of
corn beef and cabbage on a Friday. An' the house,
the Lord save us!--one would think that 'twas struck
be a cyclone. The only thing that remained whole
was the chair that he sat in and the decanter that fed
the broken glass from which he drank the poteen.
"What brings you here?" ses he, to me. An' only I
had the presence of mind of clapping the handcuffs on
him before I had time to answer such an impertinent
question, there might be one more above in the old
churchyard and one less in this court of justice.
(_Sneezes_) God bless us! The story is nearly ended.
(_Sneezes_) God bless us! I--(_Sneezes_) God bless us!
I--(_Waits for an expected sneeze and when disappointed
he says_ "Thank God!") I brought the prisoner to
the barrack and have here the poteen that changed
him from a law-abiding townsman into a fiend incarnate.
(_The sergeant then places the bottle of poteen on
the counter, looks very hard at it, pretends to faint from
sudden weakness, and asks for a drink of water_) Can
I have a little water, if you please?
[_Several rush to assist him.
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