“Well then, very well then; next mornin’ the sarvants was sweepin’ and clanin’ an’ dustin’, here an’ there an’ everywhere, the way they do in the houses of Quality.  One o’ them left the hall door open an’ in creeps the little Spider, an’ away wid him acrass the hall, an’ never stops till he gets to the great big parlour.  Up the wall wid him then as fast as he could leg it, an’ there if he doesn’t go and make his web in a corner of a great big gould pictur’ frame.  Well, there he sat, the poor fellow, but ne’er a fly at all come next or nigh him, an’ by-an’-by in walks the housemaid wid her great big broom, an’ if she didn’t—­”

“You are afther forgettin’!” interrupted Roseen, quickly seizing the opportunity of using her tongue, and proceeding with as close an imitation of Pat’s manner as she could muster.  “In walks the housemaid.  ‘Och,’ says she, ’what brings you here at all, ye dirty little spalpeen!’”

“To be sure,” said Pat, “I was near forgettin’ that altogether.  ‘Och,’ says she (in shrill tones of horror supposed to proceed from the startled housemaid), ’what brings you here at all, ye dirty little spalpeen?  You infarnal little sckamer,’ says she.”

Roseen gave a delighted little cackle, this being an addition on Pat’s part and charming her by its vigour and originality.

“‘You infarnal little sckamer, what brings you here at all?’ And she whips out her duster an’ hot the poor Spider such a crack that his web was destroyed on him altogether, an’ it was on’y by the greatest good luck he was able to creep out of her way behind the corner of the frame, or she’d have had him killed as well.  Well, the poor fellow, there he sat the whole livelong day, niver so much as offerin’ to spin another web; an’ sure if he had it ’ud have been no use, for there wasn’t the sign of a fly at all.  When evenin’ come the masther of the house had company, an’ there was atin’ an’ drinkin’ an’ the best of everything but the poor little Spider was lookin’ on, very near perishin’ wid hunger an’ fright.  Well, at the long and the last, when he thought there was nobody lookin’, he crept down the wall an’ folleyed wan o’ the sarvants out o’ the room, an’ by good luck, the hall door was open, so the poor fellow made off wid himself as fast as he could.  Down the road wid him till he come to where the Gout was sittin’ waitin’ for him at the crass roads.  ‘Is that yourself?’ says the Spider.  ‘How did you get on?’ says he.  ‘Och,’ says the poor Gout”—­and here Pat assumed a tone of extreme weakness and exhaustion—­“’it’s near killed I am altogether; I never put in such a time in me life.’  ‘Well, for that matther,’ says the Spider, ’I might say the same; but what happened to ye at all?  Tell me all about it in the name of goodness,’ says he.