Murphy's carroty wig was whin it came through his hat; what will we do, at
all, at all?'

"'Divil a know I know. It would make a parson swear after takin' tythe. Do
you hear the vagabones? Oh, then musha, bad luck to your cawings; its
impedence, and nothing but it, to be shouting out in defiance of us, you
dirty bastes. Danny, lad, you're but a little thrifle of a gossoon;
couldn't you squeedge yourself through one o' them holes?'

"'What will I stand--or, for the matter o' that, as I'm by no manes
particular,--sit upon, whin I git out--that is, if I can?'

"'Look here, lad, hear a dacent word--it will be just the dandy thing for
yes entirely; go to it with a will, and make yourself as small as a little
cock elven, and thin we'll have our revenge upon them aggravation thaves.'
How the puck he done it nobody knows; but by dad there was his little,
ragged, red poll, followed by the whole of his small body, seen coming out
o' that trap-loop there, that doesn't look much bigger than a
button-hole--and thin sitting astride the ould bit of rotten timbers, and
laffing like mad, was the tiny Masther Danny, robbing the nests, and
shouting with joy as he pulled bird after bird from their nate little
feather-beds. 'This is elegant,' says he; 'here's lashins of 'em.'

"'How many have you,' says Tom Sheeney.

"'Seven big uns--full fledged, wid feathers as black as the priest's
breeches on a Good Friday's fast.'

"'Seven is it?'