"Ye'll take what ye can get, Coolin; fer wid a splinterin' bullet in y'r
gizzard ye lie where ye fall."

"But Mary Haggarty, Connor?"

"I was drinkin' hard, ye understand, Coolin--drinkin', loike a
dhromedairy--ivery day enough to last a wake, an' Mary tryin' to stop me
betimes. At last I tuk the pledge--an' her on promise. An' purty, purty
she looked thin, an' shtepping light an' fine, an' the weddin' was coming
an. But wan day there was a foire, an' the police coort was burned down,
an' the gaol was that singed they let the b'ys out, an' we rushed the
police an' carried off the b'ys, an'--"

"An' ye sweltered in the juice!" broke in Coolin with flashing eyes,
proud to have roused Connor to this secret tale, which he would tell to
the Berkshires as long as they would listen, that it should go down
through a long line of Berkshires, as Coolin's tale of William Connor.

"An' I sweltered in the swill," said Connor, his eye with a cast quite
shut with emotion, and the other nearly so. "An' wance broke out agin
afther tin months' goin' wake and watery, was like a steer in the corn.
There was no shtoppin' me, an'--"

"Not Mary Haggarty aither?"

"Not Mary Haggarty aither."

"O, William Connor dear!"

"Ye may well say, 'O, William Connor dear!' 'Twas what she said day by