A grand dinner was laid in the large barn, but it was kept waiting owing
to the absence of the bridegroom. Father Phil, the kindly, jovial parish
priest, who had come to help James and Matty "tie with their tongues the
knot they couldn't undo with their teeth," had not broken his fast that
day, and wanted the feast to go on. To the great surprise of the
company, Matty backed him, and full of life and spirits, began to lay
the dinner. For some time the hungry guests were busy with the good
cheer provided for them, but the women at last asked in loud whispers,
"Where in the world is James Casey?" Still the bride kept up her smiles,
but old Jack Dwyer's face grew blacker and blacker. Unable to bear the
strain any longer, he stood up and addressed the expectant crowd.

"You see the disgrace that's put on me!"

"He'll come yet, sir," said Andy.

"No, he won't!" cried Dwyer, "I see he won't. He wanted to get
everything his own way, and he thinks to disgrace me in doing what he
likes, but he shan't;" and he struck the table fiercely. "He goes back
of his bargain now, thinkin' I'll give in to him; but I won't. Friends
and neighbours, here's the lease of the three-cornered field below there
and a snug little cottage, and it's ready for my girl to walk in with
the man that will have her! If there's a man among you here that's
willing, let him say the word, and I'll give her to him!"

Matty tried to protest, but her father silenced her with a terrible
look. When old Dwyer's blood was up, he was capable of murder. No guest
dared to speak.

"Are yiz all dumb?" shouted Dwyer. "It's not every day a farm and a fine