called the gigantic figure of Dinah Shadd when
she handed me my shirt.

"Ye may laugh," grunted Mulvaney. "But I'm speakin' the trut', an'
'tis you that are in fault. Dinah was a girl that wud ha' taken the
imperiousness out av the Duchess av Clonmel in those days. Flower
hand, foot av shod air, an' the eyes av the mornin' she had. That is
my wife to-day--ould Dinah, an' never aught else than Dinah Shadd to me.

"'Twas after three weeks standin' off an' on, an' niver makin' headway
excipt through the eyes, that a little drummer-boy grinned in me face
whin I had admonished him wid the buckle av my belt for riotin' all
over the place. 'An' I'm not the only wan that doesn't kape to
barricks,' sez he. I tuk him by the scruff av his neck--my heart was
hung on a hair trigger those days, you will understand--an' 'Out wid
ut,' sez I, 'or I'll lave no bone av you unbruk.' 'Speak to Dempsey,'
sez he, howlin'. 'Dempsey which,' sez I, 'ye unwashed limb av Satan?'
'Of the Bobtailed Dhragoons,' sez he. 'He's seen her home from her
aunt's house in the civil lines four times this fortnight.' 'Child,
sez I, dhroppin' him, 'your tongue's stronger than your body. Go to
your quarters. I'm sorry I dhressed you down.'

"At that I wint four ways to wanst huntin' Dempsey. I was mad to think
that wid all my airs among women I shud ha' been ch'ated by a
basin-faced fool av a cav'lryman not fit to trust on a mule thrunk.
Presintly I found him in our lines--the Bobtails was quartered next
us--an' a tallowy, top-heavy son av a she-mule he was, wid his big
brass spurs an' his plastrons on his epigastons an' all. But he niver
flinched a hair.

"'A word wid you, Dempsey,' sez I. 'You've walked wid Dinah Shadd four
times this fortnight gone.'

"'What's that to you?' sez he. 'I'll walk forty times more, an' forty
on top av that, ye shovel-futted, clod-breakin' infantry
lance-corp'ril.'

"Before I cud gyard, he had his gloved fist home on me cheek, an' down
I went full sprawl. 'Will that content you?' sez he, blowin' on his
knuckles for all the world like a Scots Grays orf'cer. 'Content?' sez
I. 'For your own sake, man, take off your spurs, peel your jackut, and
onglove. 'Tis the beginnin' av the overture. Stand up!"

"He stud all he knew, but he niver peeled his jackut, an' his shoulders
had no fair play. I was fightin' for Dinah Shadd an' that cut on me
cheek. What hope had he forninst me? 'Stand up!' sez I, time an'
ag