Phil, the Fiddler Part 30

Phil looked over his shoulder, and, seeing that Pietro was no nearer, took fresh courage. He darted round a corner, with his pursuer half a dozen rods behind him. They were not in the most frequented parts of the city, but in a quarter occupied by two-story wooden houses. Seeing a front door open, Phil, with a sudden impulse, ran hastily in, closing the door behind him.

A woman with her sleeves rolled up, who appeared to have taken her arms from the tub, hearing his step, came out from the back room.

"What do ye want?" she demanded, suspiciously.

"Save me!" cried Phil, out of breath. "Someone is chasing me. He is bad.

He will beat me."

The woman's sympathies were quickly enlisted. She had a warm heart, and was always ready to give aid to the oppressed.

"Whist, darlint, run upstairs, and hide under the bed. I'll send him off wid a flea in his ear, whoever he is."

Phil was quick to take the hint. He ran upstairs, and concealed himself as directed. While he was doing it, the lower door, which he had shut, was opened by Pietro. He was about to rush into the house, but the muscular form of Phil's friend stood in his way.

"Out wid ye!" said she, flouris.h.i.+ng a broom, which she had s.n.a.t.c.hed up.

"Is that the way you inter a dacint woman's house, ye spalpeen!"

"I want my brother," said Pietro, drawing back a little before the amazon who disputed his pa.s.sage.

"Go and find him, thin!" said Bridget McGuire, "and kape out of my house."

"But he is here," said Pietro, angrily; "I saw him come in."

"Then, one of the family is enough," said Bridget. "I don't want another. Lave here wid you!"

"Give me my brother, then!" said Pietro, provoked.

"I don't know anything of your brother. If he looks like you, he's a beauty, sure," returned Mrs. McGuire.

"Will you let me look for him?"

"Faith and I won't. You may call him if you plase."

Pietro knew that this would do very little good, but there seemed nothing else to do.

"Filippo!" he called; "come here. The padrone has sent for you."

"What was ye sayin'?" demanded Bridget not comprehending the Italian.

"I told my brother to come."

"Then you can go out and wait for him," said she. "I don't want you in the house."

Pietro was very angry. He suspected that Phil was in the rear room, and was anxious to search for him. But Bridget McGuire was in the way--no light, delicate woman, but at least forty pounds heavier than Pietro.

Moreover, she was armed with a broom, and seemed quite ready to use it.

Phil was fortunate in obtaining so able a protector. Pietro looked at her, and had a vague thought of running by her, and dragging Phil out if he found him. But Bridget was planted so squarely in his path that this course did not seem very practicable.

"Will you give me my brother?" demanded Pietro, forced to use words where he would willingly have used blows.

"I haven't got your brother."

"He is in this house."

"Thin he may stay here, but you shan't," said Bridget, and she made a sudden demonstration with the broom, of so threatening a character that Pietro hastily backed out of the house, and the door was instantly bolted in his face.

CHAPTER XXI

THE SIEGE

When the enemy had fairly been driven out of the house Mrs. McGuire went upstairs in search of Phil. Our hero had come out from his place of concealment, and stood at the window.

"Where is Pietro?" he asked, as his hostess appeared in the chamber.

"I druv him out of the house," said Bridget, triumphantly.

"Then he won't come up here?" interrogated Phil.

"It's I that would like to see him thry it," said Mrs. McGuire, shaking her head in a very positive manner, "I'd break my broom over his back first."

Phil breathed freer. He saw that he was rescued from immediate danger.

"Where is he now?"

"He's outside watching for you. He'll have to wait till you come out."

"May I stay here till he goes?"

"Sure, and you may," said the warm-hearted Irishwoman. "You're as welcome as flowers in May. Are you hungry?"

"No, thank you," said Phil. "I have eaten my dinner."

"Won't you try a bit of bread and cold mate now?" she asked, hospitably.

"You are very kind," said Phil, gratefully, "but I am not hungry. I only want to get away from Pietro."

"Is that the haythen's name? Sure I niver heard it before."

"It is Peter in English."

"And has he got the name of the blessed St. Peter, thin? Sure, St. Peter would be mightily ashamed of him. And is he your brother, do you say?"

"No," said Phil.

"He said he was; but I thought it was a wicked lie when he said it. He's too bad, sure, to be a brother of yours. But I must go down to my work.

My clothes are in the tub, and the water will get cold."

"Will you be kind enough to tell me when he goes away?" asked Phil.