o, gintlemen, the fun's in
yez, afther all--whish! more power to yez!'

"The sorra's own fun they had, an' no wondher; but judge of what they
felt when all at once they saw ould Jack Rafferty himself bouncin' in
among them, an' footin' it away like the best of them. Bedad, no play
could come up to it, an' nothin' could be heard but laughin', shouts of
encouragement, an' clappin' of hands like mad. Now, the minute Jack
Rafferty left the chair, where he had been carvin' the pudden, ould
Harry Connolly come over and claps himself down in his place, in ordher
to sent it round, of coorse; an' he was scarcely sated when who should
make his appearance but Barney Hartigan, the piper. Barney, by the way,
had been sent for early in the day, but bein' from home when the message
for him went, he couldn't come any sooner.

"'Begorra,' says Barney, 'you're airly at the work gintlemen! But what
does this mane? But divle may care, yez shan't want the music, while
there's a blast in the pipes, anyhow!' So sayin' he gave them _Jig
Polthogue_, and afther that, _Kiss My Lady_, in his best style.

"In the manetime the fun went on thick and threefold, for it must be
remembered that Harry, the ould knave, was at the pudden; an' maybe, he
didn't sarve it about in double-quick time, too! The first he helped was
the bride, and before you could say chopstick she was at it hard and
fast, before the Methodist praycher, who gave a jolly spring before her
that threw them into convulsions. Harry liked this, and made up his mind
soon to find partners for the rest; so he accordianly sent the pudden
about like lightnin'; an', to make a long story short, barrin' the piper
an' himself, there wasn't a pair of heels in the house but was as busy
at the dancin' as if their lives depended on it.

"'Barney,' says Harry, 'jist taste a morsel o' this pudden; divle the
sich a bully of a pudden ever you ett. Here, your sowl! thry a snig of
it--it's beautiful!'

"'To be sure I will,' says Barney. 'I'm not the boy to refuse a good
thing. But, Harry, be quick, for you know my hands is engaged, an' it
would be a thousand pities not to keep them in music, an' they so well
inclined. Thank you, Harry. Begad, that is a fine pudden. But, blood
an' turnips! what's this for?'

"The word was scarcely out of his mouth when he bounced up, pipes an'
all, and dashed into the middle of the party. 'Hurroo! your sowls, let
us make a night of it! The Ballyboulteen boys for ever!