“Ah no, Misther Clancy, I don’t care for that,” interrupted Roseen, jumping up and clapping her hands to her ears.  “It’s a horrible ould story.  They’d have been drownded,” she added seriously.

Pat chuckled.  “Well, sit down, an’ don’t offer to say a word unless you hear me goin’ out.  Sure maybe I disremember it altogether.”

Roseen sat down obediently and fixed her eyes on the old man’s face.

[Illustration:  THE SPIDER AND THE GOUT “Wanst upon a time,” began Dan]

“Wanst upon a time,” began Dan, with a twinkle in his eye, “the pigs were swine.”  Roseen gave an impatient wriggle.  “Well, well, it’s too bad to be tormentin’ ye that way.  I’ll begin right now.—­Well, very well then.  There was wan time the Spider an’ the Gout was thravellin’ together, goin’ to seek their fortun’s.  Well, they come to the crass roads.  ‘Lookit here,’ says the Spider, ‘it’s time for you an’ me to be partin’ company,’ says he; ‘I’m goin’ up along here to the right,’ says he, ’to that great big house on the hill.  A very rich man lives there,’ says he, ‘an’ I think the quarthers ’ull suit me.  You can go down that little boreen to the left,’ he says; ’there’s a little cabin there that belongs to some poor fellow or other.  The door is cracked,’ says the Spider, ‘and the windy is broke.  Ye can slip in aisy,’ he says, ‘an’ creep into the poor fellow’s toe before he knows where he is.’—­’Is that so?’ says the Gout.  ‘Oh, that indeed!’ says he; ’it’ll suit me very well,’ says he, ‘if that’s the way it is.  An’ I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ says the Gout, ‘you an’ me’ll meet here this time to-morrow night an’ tell each other how we’re gettin’ on,’ says he.”

Pat paused, rubbing his knotted fingers up and down the ragged knees of his corduroys.  Roseen heaved a deep sigh, and folded one dimpled hand over the other, her eyes meanwhile fixed unwinkingly on the face of the narrator.  The interest of the tale was now growing absorbing.

“Well, the Spider went off wid himself up to the rich man’s house, an’ what do ye think the poor fellow found when he got there?”

Roseen was perfectly aware of the state of affairs which the Spider discovered, knowing as she did every word of the story by heart, but deemed it her duty to shake her head slightly and raise her eyebrows in a manner which denoted that she was absolutely at fault.

“Well,” pursued Pat, “every door in the whole place was shut up, an’ every windy was bolted an’ barred, an’ though the poor Spider ran this way an’ that way, an’ round the house an’ round the house, not a hole nor a crack could he find; an’ there he had to stop outside in the wind an’ the rain.”

Roseen’s face betokened extreme compassion for the Spider.  Pat went on, drawing in his breath with a sucking sound.