“Nothin’ is asier to post than it is.  We must enter it it undher the head of—­let me see!—­it must go in the spirit account, undher the head of Profit an’ Loss, Your good health, Mr. Connell!—­Nancy, I dhrink ta your improvement in imperturbability!  Yes, it must be enthered undher the”——­

“Faix, undher the rose, I think,” observed Pether; “don’t you know the smack, of it?  You see since I took to it, I like the smell o’ what I used to squeeze out o’ the barley myself, long ago.  Mr. O’Flaherty, I only want you to dhraw up an oath against liquor for me; but it’s not for the books, good or bad.  I promised to Father Mulcahy, that I’d do it.  It’s regardin’ my poor Ellish’s sowl in purgatory.”

“Nancy, hand me a slate an’ cutter.  Faith, the same’s a provident resolution; but how is it an’ purgatory concatenated?”

“The priest, you see, won’t go an wid the masses for her till I take the oath.”

“That’s but wake logic, if you ped him for thim.”

“Faix, an’ I did—­an’ well, too;—­but about the oath?  Have you the pencil?”

“I have; jist lave the thing to me.”

“Asy, Masther—­you don’t undherstand it yit.  Put down two tumblers for me at home.”

“How is that, Misther Connell?—­It’s mysterious, if you’re about to swear against liquor!”

“I am.  Put down, as I said, two tumblers for me at home—­Are they down?”

“They are down—­but”—­

“Asy!—­very good!—­Put down two more for me at Dan’s.  Let me see!—­two more; behind the garden.  Well!—­put down one at Father Mulcahy’s;—­two more at, Frank M’Carrol’s of Kilclay.  How many’s that?”

“Nine!!!”

“Very good.  Now put down one wid ould’ Bartle Gorman, of Cargah; an’ two over wid honest Roger M’Gaugy, of Nurchasey.  How-many have you now?”

“Twelve in all!!!!  But, Misther Connelly there’s a demonstration badly wanted here.  I must confis I was always bright, but at present I’m as dark as Nox.  I’d thank you for a taste of explanation.”

“Asy, man alive!  Is there twelve in all?”

“Twelve in all:  I’ve calculated them.”

“Well, we’ll hould to that.  Och, och!—­I’m sure, avourneen, afore I’d let you suffer one minute’s pain, I’d not scruple to take an oath against liquor, any way.  He may go an wid the masses now for you, as soon as he likes!  Mr. O’Flaherty, will you put that down on paper,—­an’ I’ll swear to it, wid a blessin’, to-morrow.”

“But what object do you wish to effectuate by this?”

“You see, Masther, I dhrink one day wid another from a score to two dozen tumblers, an’ I want to swear to no more nor twelve in the twenty-four hours.”

“Why, there’s intelligibility in that!—­Wid great pleasure, Mr. Connell, I’ll indite it.  Katty, tare me a lafe out o’ Brian Murphy’s copy there.”

“You see, Masther, it’s for Ellish’s sake I’m doin’ this.  State that in the oath.”