undis_, to jump up and run from the church as if in a panic. I can
understand now how _extemplo_ came to mean _in a hurry_, for if the roof
were falling they could not rush from the building more promptly. Then
an old woman will haggle over sixpence in buying a pair of chickens, and
then come to you the following day and offer you in a stocking all she
had saved in this world. I give them up. They are unintelligible."

From which I perceive that our good schoolmaster, experience, is trying
the rod on this most hopeful and promising pupil.

"I hope you did not perceive any such abrupt and sudden contrasts in
your protege, Jem Deady," I said. "He has realized your ideas of a
nineteenth century _Goban Saor_."[4]

He laughed loudly.

"There's no use in talking," he said. I notice he is coming down
gradually from his polished periods to our village colloquialisms.

"Thou shalt lower to their level." God forbid! 'Twas bad enough with
myself; but with this bright, accomplished fellow, 't would be too bad.
He then told me with delight and chagrin, rage and laughter, his
experiences with Jem.

It would appear that he made a solemn contract with this architect to
stop the leak and restore the wall in St. Joseph's Chapel for
twenty-five shillings. "'Twas too little," said Jem, "but what can you
do with a gintleman that doesn't know a trowel from a spade." All
materials were to be found by the contractor.

On Monday afternoon there was a knock at Father Letheby's door, and Jem
was announced.

"Well, Jem," said Father Letheby, cheerfully, "getting on with the job?"

"Yes, your reverence, getting on grand," said Jem. "But I come to you
about the laddher."

"The-e ladder?" echoed Father Letheby.

"Yes, your reverence," echoed Jem confidentially, "the laddher to get up
on the roof, you know."

"But I understood you to say that you were getting through with this
little job."

"Oh, of course, your reverence, we're getting through the preliminaries;
but I must get on the roof, you know."

"I presume so," said Father Letheby, a little nettled, "and why don't
you go there?"

"Does your reverence take me for an aigle, and want me to fly?"

"Well, not exactly," said Father Letheby, with a slight touch of
flattery and sarcasm, "I am more disposed to take you for a
nightingale!"

"Well, then, your reverence," said Jem, melting under the happy
allusion, "a gintleman of your grate expayrince in building should know
that, of