s he, 'there is not room for a suckin'-pig,'
says he, 'let alone a Christian,' says he.

'Well, run into the house, Billy,' says she, 'this minute,' says she,
'an' hide yourself antil they're quiet,' says she, 'an' thin you can
steal out,' says she, 'anknownst to them all,' says she.

'I'll do your biddin', says he, 'Molly asthore,' says he.

'Run in thin,' says she, 'an' I'll go an' meet them,' says she.

So wid that away wid her, and in wint Billy, an' where 'id he hide
himself bud in a little closet that was off iv the room where the ould
man and woman slep'. So he closed the doore, and sot down in an ould
chair he found there convanient.

Well, he was not well in it when all the rest iv them comes into the
kitchen, an' ould Tim Donovan singin' the 'Colleen Rue' for the bare
life, an' the rest iv them sthrivin' to humour him, and doin' exactly
everything he bid them, because they seen he was foolish be the manes iv
the liquor.

Well, to be sure all this kep' them long enough, you may be sure, from
goin' to bed, so that Billy could get no manner iv an advantage to get
out iv the house, and so he sted sittin' in the dark closet in state,
cursin' the 'Colleen Rue,' and wondherin' to the divil whin they'd get
the ould man into his bed. An', as if that was not delay enough,
who should come in to stop for the night but Father O'Flaherty, of
Cahirmore, that was buyin' a horse at the fair! An' av course, there was
a bed to be med down for his raverence, an' some other attintions; an' a
long discoorse himself an' ould Mrs. Donovan had about the slaughter iv
Billy Malowney, an' how he was buried on the field iv battle; an' his
raverence hoped he got a dacent funeral, an' all the other convaniences
iv religion. An' so you may suppose it was pretty late in the night
before all iv them got to their beds.

Well, Tim Donovan could not settle to sleep at all at all, an' so
he kep' discoorsin' the wife about the new cows he bought, an' the
stripphers he sould, an' so an for better than an hour, ontil from one
thing to another he kem to talk about the pigs, an' the poulthry; and
at last, having nothing betther to discoorse about, he begun at his
daughter Molly, an' all the heartscald she was to him be raison iv
refusin' the men. An' at last says he:

'I onderstand,' says he, 'very well how it is,' says he. 'It's how she
was in love,' says he, 'wid that bliggard, Billy Malowney,' says he,
'bad luck to him!' says he; for by thi