"Why don't they come here ?" "Z-afrai'," said Mazaro; "d'they frai' to do an'teen een d-these-a crowth." "That's so," said the Irishman; "I say, that's so.

If I don't feel very much like go-un, I'll not go; I say, I'll not go.

We've no business to-night, eh Mazaro ?" "No, Senor." A second evening was much the same, Mazaro repeating his warning.

But when, on the third evening, the Irishman again repeated his willingness to stay away from the Cafe des Exiles unless he should feel strongly impelled to go, it was with the mental reservation that he did feel very much in that humor, and, unknown to Mazaro, should thither repair, if only to see whether some of those deep old fellows were not contriving a practical joke.
"Mazaro," said he, "I'm go-un around the caurnur a bit; I want ye to wait heer till I come back.

I say I want ye to wait heer till I come back; I'll be gone about three-quarters of an hour." Mazaro assented.