They're my blessed guardian angels.' There was a pause.

Philip broke from a brown study to glance at his brother.

Patrick made a queer face.
'Fun and good-fellowship to-night, Con,' said Philip, as the captain sadly reported no star visible.
'Have I ever flown a signal to the contrary ?' retorted the captain.
'No politics, and I 'll thank you,' said Philip: 'none of your early recollections.

Be jovial.' 'You should have seen me here the other night about a month ago; I smuggled up an old countrywoman of ours, with the connivance of rosy Mary,' said Captain Con, suffused in the merriest of grins.

'She sells apples at a stall at a corner of a street hard by, and I saw her sitting pulling at her old pipe in the cold October fog morning and evening for comfort, and was overwhelmed with compassion and fraternal sentiment; and so I invited her to be at the door of the house at half-past ten, just to have a roll with her in Irish mud, and mend her torn soul with a stitch or two of rejoicing.