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He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 22-09-2024 18:26:09
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