So knocking stoutly at the window, he caused the melody to subside and the shutter to open.

When the priest, looking out, saw Dan Loftus in his deshabille, I believe he thought for a moment it was something from the neighbouring churchyard.
However, his reverence came out and stood on the steps, enveloped in a hospital aroma of broiled bones, lemons, and alcohol, and shaking his visitor affectionately by the hand--for he bore no malice, and the Lenten ditty he quite forgave as being no worse in modern parlance than an unhappy 'fluke'-- was about to pull him into the parlour, where there was ensconced, he told him, 'a noble friend of his.' This was 'Pat Mahony, from beyond Killarney, just arrived--a man of parts and conversation, and a lovely singer.' But Dan resisted, and told his tale in an earnest whisper in the hall.
The priest made his mouth into a round queer little O, through which he sucked a long breath, elevating his brows, and rolling his eyes slowly about.
'A jewel! And Nutter, of all the men on the face of the airth--though I often heerd he was a fine shot, and a sweet little fencer in his youth, an' game, too--oh, be the powers! you can see that still--game to the back-bone--and--whisht a bit now--who's the other ?' 'Lieutenant O'Flaherty.' (A low whistle from his reverence).

'That's a boy that comes from a fighting county--Galway.

I wish you saw them at an election time.

Why, there's no end of divarsion--the divarsion of _stopping_ them, of course, I mean (observing a sudden alteration in Loftus's countenance).
An' _you_, av coorse, want to stop it?
And so, av coorse, do I, my dear.
Well, then, wait a bit, now--we must have our eyes open.