“Now,” said he to his curate, as they talked the matter over that night. “it is quite evident that this scapegrace reckons upon our refusal to call him with any of those females to-morrow.  It is also certain that not one of the three to whom he has pledged himself is aware that he is under similar obligations to the other two.”

“How do you intend to act, sir?” inquired the curate.

“Why,” said Mr. O’Hara, “certainly to call him to each:  it will give the business a turn for which he is not prepared.  He will stand exposed, moreover, before the congregation, and that will be some punishment to him.”

“I don’t know as to the punishment,” replied the curate.  “If ever a human being was free from shame, Phelim is.  The fellow will consider it a joke.”

“Very possible,” observed his superior, “but I am anxious to punish this old woman.  It may prevent her from uniting herself with a fellow who certainly would, on becoming master of her money, immediately abandon her—­perhaps proceed to America.”

“It will also put the females of the parish on their guard against him,” said the innocent curate, who knew not that it would raise him highly in their estimation.

“We will have a scene, at all events,” said Mr. O’Hara; “for I’m resolved to expose him.  No blame can be attached to those whom he has duped, excepting only the old woman, whose case will certainly excite a great deal of mirth.  That matters not, however; she has earned the ridicule, and let her bear it.”  It was not until Sunday morning that the three calls occurred to Phelim in a new light.

He forgot that the friends of the offended parties might visit upon his proper carcase the contumely he offered to them.  This, however, did not give him much anxiety, for Phelim was never more in his element than when entering upon a row.

The Sunday in question was fine, and the congregation unusually large; one would think that all the inhabitants of the parish of Teernarogarah had been assembled.  Most of them certainly were.

The priest, after having gone through the usual ceremonies of the Sabbath worship, excepting those with which he concludes the mass, turned round to the congregation, and thus addressed them:—­

“I would not,” said he, “upon any other occasion of this kind, think it necessary to address you at all; but this is one perfectly unique, and in some degree patriarchal, because, my friends, we are informed that it was allowed in the times of Abraham and his successors, to keep more than one wife.  This custom is about being revived by a modern, who wants, in rather a barefaced manner, to palm himself upon us as a patriarch.  And who do you think, my friends, this Irish Patriarch is?  Why, no other than bouncing Phelim O’Toole!”

This was received precisely as the priest anticipated:  loud were the snouts of laughter from all parts of the congregation.

“Divil a fear o’ Phelim!” they exclaimed.  “He wouldn’t be himself, or he’d kick up a dust some way.”