t it true? Didn't they go home on one of the cars off the
farm, and young Michael driving them, and they on a mattress?"

"And sure, Father John, you wouldn't have had me let them walk home
to Carrick after dinner?"

"They were little fit for walking, I believe; why they couldn't so
much as sit up in the car. Will you never have done, Mr. McKeon;
don't you know the sin of drunkenness?"

"The sin of drunkenness! me know it! Indeed I don't then. When did
you ever see me drunk? Come, which was a case last, Father John--you
or I?"

"God forgive me, but I believe some boys did make me rather tipsy the
first day I ever was in France; and my head should have been full of
other things; and I believe if you were to swim in punch it wouldn't
hurt you; but you know as well as I can tell you, it's worse for you
to be making others drink so much who can't bear it as you can, than
if you were hurting yourself."

"And you know, as well as I can tell you, that yourself would be the
last man to take the whiskey off the table, as long as the lads that
were with you chose to be drinking it; and I think when I sent them
boys off to Carrick as comfortably asleep as if they were in bed, so
that they wouldn't be too late at business this morning, I acted by
them as I'd wish anybody to act by me if I had an accident; and if
that an't being a good Christian, I don't know what is. So lave off
preaching, Father John, and come round to the stables, till I show
you the mare that'll win at Carrick; at least, it 'll be a very good
nag that 'll take the shine out of her."

"I hope you'll win, Mr. McKeon, in spite of your villany in making
those young fellows drunk. But I'll not look at the mare just at
present; more by token I'm told she's not very civil to morning
visitors."

"Arrah, nonsense, man! she's as quiet a mare as ever went over a
fence, when she's well handled."

"But you see I can't handle her well; and as I want to see the good
woman that owns you, if you please, I'll go into the house instead of
into the stable."

"Well, every man to his choice; and I'll see Playful get her gallop.
But I tell you what, Father John, if you don't mind what you're after
with Mrs. McKeon, I'll treat you a deal worse than I did those two
fellows I sent home to Carrick on a mattress."

So Mr. McKeon walked off to superintend the training of his mare; and
the priest, in spite of the marital caution he had received, walked
into the dining-room, whe