"It was near dinner-time, and Jack was very sad and sorrowful, as how
could he be otherwise, poor fellow, with such a bloody-minded ould chap
to dale with? when up comes the darling of the world again, to call him
to his dinner.

"'Well, Jack,' says she, with her white arms so beautiful, and her dark
clusters tossed about by the motion of her walk--how are you coming on
at your task?' 'How am I coming on, is it? Och, thin,' says Jack, giving
a good-humored smile through the frown that was on his face, 'plase your
lady--a cushla machree--it's all over with me; for I've still the same
story to tell, and off goes my head, as sure as it's on my shoulders,
this blessed night.'

"'That would be a pity, Jack,' says she, 'for there are worse heads on
worse shoulders; but will you give me the shovel?' 'Will I give you
the shovel, is it?--Och thin, wouldn't I be a right big baste to do the
likes of that, any how?' says Jack; 'what! avourneen dheelish! to stand
up with myself, and let this hard shovel into them beautiful, soft,
white hands of your own! Faix, my jewel, if you knew but all, my
mother's son's not the man to do such a disgraceful turn, as to let a
lady like you take the shovel out of his hand, and he standing with his
mouth under his nose, looking at you--not myself auourneen! we have no
such ungenteel manners as that in our country.' 'Take my advice, Jack,'
says she, pleased in her heart at what Jack said, for all she didn't
purtend it--'give me the shovel, and depend upon it, I'll do more in a
short time to clear the stable than you would for years.' 'Why, thin,
avour-neen, it goes to my heart to refuse you; but, for all that, may
I never see yesterday, if a taste of it will go into your purty, white
fingers,' says the thief, praising her to her face all the time--'my