Immediately after the conversation already detailed between his Reverence and Phaddhy, the latter sought Katty, that he might communicate to her the unlucky oversight which they had committed, in neglecting to provide fresh meat and wine.  “We’ll be disgraced forever,” said Phaddhy, “without either a bit of mutton or a bottle of wine for the gintlemen, and that big thief Parrah More Slevin had both.”

“And I hope,” replied Katty, “that you’re not so mane as to let any of that faction outdo you in dacency, the nagerly set?  It was enough for them to bate us in the law-shoot about the horse, and not to have the laugh agin at us about this.”

“Well, that same law-shoot is not over with them yet,” said Phaddhy; “wait till the spring fair comes, and if I don’t have a faction gathered that’ll sweep them out of the town, why my name’s not Phaddhy!  But where is Matt till we sind him off?”

“Arrah, Phaddhy,” said Katty, “wasn’t it friendly of Father Philemy to give us the hard word about the wine and mutton?”

“Very friendly,” retorted Phaddhy, who, after all, appeared to have suspected the priest—­“very friendly, indeed, when it’s to put a good joint before himself, and a bottle of wine in his jacket.  No, no, Katty! it’s not altogether for the sake of Father Philemy, but I wouldn’t have the neighbors say that I was near and undacent; and above all tilings, I wouldn’t be worse nor the Slevins—­for the same set would keep it up agin us long enough.”

Our readers will admire the tact with which Father Philemy worked upon the rival feeling between the factions; but, independently of this, there is a generous hospitality in an Irish peasant which would urge him to any stratagem, were it even the disposal of his only cow, sooner than incur the imputation of a narrow, or, as he himself terms it, “undacent” or “nagerly” spirit.

In the course of a short time, Phaddhy dispatched two messengers, one for the wine, and another for the mutton; and, that they might not have cause for any unnecessary delay, he gave them the two reverend gentlemen’s horses, ordering them to spare neither whip nor spur until they returned.  This was an agreeable command to the messengers, who, as soon as they found themselves mounted, made a bet of a “trate,” to be paid on arriving in the town to which they were sent, to him who should first reach a little stream that crossed the road at the entrance of it, called the “Pound burn.”  But I must not forget to state, that they not only were mounted on the priest’s horses, but took their great-coats, as the day had changed, and threatened to rain.  Accordingly, on getting out upon the main road, they set off, whip and spur, at full speed, jostling one another, and cutting each other’s horses as if they had been intoxicated; and the fact is, that, owing to the liberal distribution of the bottle that morning, they were not far from it.

[Illustration:  PAGE 756—­ They set off, whip and spur, at full speed]