puffing and panting, and laving his partner standing in the middle of the
room. I couldn't stand that by no means; so jumping upon the flure with a
shilloo, I flung my cap into the air:--the music stopped of a sudden, and
I then recollected that, by throwing off the cap, I had become visible,
and had lost one of Mahoon's three gifts.

[2] A hundred thousand welcomes.

"Divil may care! as Punch said when he missed mass; I'll have my dance out
at any rate, so rouse up 'The Rakes of Mallow,' my beauties. So to it we
set; and when the _cailleen_ was getting tired well becomes myself, but I
threw my arm around her slindher waist and took such a smack of her sweet
lips, that the hall resounded with the report.

"'Fetch me a glass of the best,' says I to a little fellow who was hopping
about with a tray full of all sorts of dhrink.

"'Fetch it yourself, Felix Donovan. Who's your sarvant now?' says the
chap, docking up his chin as impident as a tinker's dog. I felt my fingers
itching to give the fellow a _polthogue_[3] in the ear; but I thought I
might as well keep myself paceable in a strange place--so I only gave him
a contemptible look, and turned my back upon him.

[3] A thump.

"'Felix jewel!' whispered Anty in my ear. 'You've lost your power over the
fairies by that misfortunate kiss--'

"'_Diaoul!_--there's two of Mahoon's gifts gone already,' thinks I,