"Come, gentleman," said he, after the ladies had retired to the
withdrawing-room, "come, gentlemen, fill high; fill your glasses."

"Troth," said the priest, "we'd put a heap on them, if we could."

"Right, Father Magauran; do put a heap on them, if you can; but, at all
events, let them be brimmers; I'm going to propose a toast."

"Let it be a lady, Lindsay, if you love me," said the parson, filling
his glass.

"Sorra hair I care if it is," said the priest, "provided she's dacent
and attends her duty; go on, squire; give us her name at once, and don't
keep the parson's teeth watering."

"Be quiet, reverend gentlemen," said Lindsay, laughing; "how can a man
speak when you take the words out of his mouth?"

"The Lord forbid we'd swallow them, though," subjoined the parson; "if
we did, we'd not be long in a state of decent sobriety."

"Talk about something you understand, my worthy friends, and, allow me
to proceed," replied the host; "don't you know that every interruption
keeps you from your glass? Gentlemen, I have great pleasure in proposing
the health of my excellent and worthy step-son, who has, after a long
absence, made me and all my family happy by his return amongst us. I
am sure you will all like him when you come to know him, and that the
longer you know him, the better you will like him. Come now, let me
see the bottom of every man's glass uppermost. I do not address myself
directly to the parson or the priest, because that, I know, would be, as