He went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar quickly, muttering to himself that they could all go to hell because he was going to have a good night of it.  The clerk in Terry Kelly’s said A crown! but the consignor held out for six shillings; and in the end the six shillings was allowed him literally.  He came out of the pawn-office joyfully, making a little cylinder, of the coins between his thumb and fingers.  In Westmoreland Street the footpaths were crowded with young men and women returning from business and ragged urchins ran here and there yelling out the names of the evening editions.  The man passed through the crowd, looking on the spectacle generally with proud satisfaction and staring masterfully at the office-girls.  His head was full of the noises of tram- gongs and swishing trolleys and his nose already sniffed the curling fumes punch.  As he walked on he preconsidered the terms in which he would narrate the incident to the boys: 

“So, I just looked at him—­coolly, you know, and looked at her.  Then I looked back at him again—­taking my time, you know.  ’I don’t think that that’s a fair question to put to me,’ says I.”

Nosey Flynn was sitting up in his usual corner of Davy Byrne’s and, when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half-one, saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard.  Farrington stood a drink in his turn.  After a while O’Halloran and Paddy Leonard came in and the story was repeated to them.  O’Halloran stood tailors of malt, hot, all round and told the story of the retort he had made to the chief clerk when he was in Callan’s of Fownes’s Street; but, as the retort was after the manner of the liberal shepherds in the eclogues, he had to admit that it was not as clever as Farrington’s retort.  At this Farrington told the boys to polish off that and have another.

Just as they were naming their poisons who should come in but Higgins!  Of course he had to join in with the others.  The men asked him to give his version of it, and he did so with great vivacity for the sight of five small hot whiskies was very exhilarating.  Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way in which Mr. Alleyne shook his fist in Farrington’s face.  Then he imitated Farrington, saying, “And here was my nabs, as cool as you please,” while Farrington looked at the company out of his heavy dirty eyes, smiling and at times drawing forth stray drops of liquor from his moustache with the aid of his lower lip.

When that round was over there was a pause.  O’Halloran had money but neither of the other two seemed to have any; so the whole party left the shop somewhat regretfully.  At the corner of Duke Street Higgins and Nosey Flynn bevelled off to the left while the other three turned back towards the city.  Rain was drizzling down on the cold streets and, when they reached the Ballast Office, Farrington suggested the Scotch House.  The bar was full of men and loud with the noise of tongues and glasses.  The three men pushed past