When the squire opened the accompanying envelope, and found within a real instead of a figurative blister, he grew crimson with rage.  But he was consoled when he went to horsewhip his attorney, and met the chemist pelting down the street with O’Grady tearing after him with a cudgel.  For some years O’Grady had successfully kept out of his door every process-server sent by his innumerable creditors; but now, having got a cold, he had dispatched his man to the chemist for a blister, and owing to Handy Andy, he obtained Squire Egan’s writ against him.

“You’ve made a mistake this time, you rascal,” said the squire to Andy, “for which I’ll forgive you.”

And this was only fair, for through it he was able to carry the election, and become Edward Egan, Esq., M.P.

III.—­Andy Gets Married

Andy was among the guests invited to the wedding feast of pretty Matty Dwyer and handsome young James Casey; like everybody else he came to the marriage full of curiosity.  Matty’s father, John Dwyer, was a hard, close-fisted fellow, and, as all the neighbours knew, there had been many fierce disputes between him and Casey over the question of a farm belonging to Dwyer going into the marriage settlement.

A grand dinner was laid in the large barn, but it was kept waiting owing to the absence of the bridegroom.  Father Phil, the kindly, jovial parish priest, who had come to help James and Matty “tie with their tongues the knot they couldn’t undo with their teeth,” had not broken his fast that day, and wanted the feast to go on.  To the great surprise of the company, Matty backed him, and full of life and spirits, began to lay the dinner.  For some time the hungry guests were busy with the good cheer provided for them, but the women at last asked in loud whispers, “Where in the world is James Casey?” Still the bride kept up her smiles, but old Jack Dwyer’s face grew blacker and blacker.  Unable to bear the strain any longer, he stood up and addressed the expectant crowd.

“You see the disgrace that’s put on me!”

“He’ll come yet, sir,” said Andy.

“No, he won’t!” cried Dwyer, “I see he won’t.  He wanted to get everything his own way, and he thinks to disgrace me in doing what he likes, but he shan’t;” and he struck the table fiercely.  “He goes back of his bargain now, thinkin’ I’ll give in to him; but I won’t.  Friends and neighbours, here’s the lease of the three-cornered field below there and a snug little cottage, and it’s ready for my girl to walk in with the man that will have her!  If there’s a man among you here that’s willing, let him say the word, and I’ll give her to him!”

Matty tried to protest, but her father silenced her with a terrible look.  When old Dwyer’s blood was up, he was capable of murder.  No guest dared to speak.

“Are yiz all dumb?” shouted Dwyer.  “It’s not every day a farm and a fine girl falls in a man’s way.”

Still no one spoke, and Andy thought they were using Dwyer and his daughter badly.