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"'An' does he come to see ye, at all?' says Moll.
"'Faith he does, an' onless I'm mishtaken is mightily plazed wid his comp'ny whin it's me that's in it,' says Miss Rooney.
"'An' phat widdys is in it,' says Moll, as she didn't know, bekase sorra a step did the widdys go to her wid their love doin's, as they naded no help, an' cud thransact thim affairs thimselves as long as their tongues held out.
"So Miss Rooney towld her, an' Moll shuk her head. 'Jagers,' says she, 'I'm afeared yer goose is cooked if all thim widdys is afther him. I won't thry,' says she.
"But Miss Rooney was as much in airnest as the widdys, troth, I'm thinkin', more, bekase she was fairly aitchin' fur a husband now she'd got her mind on it.
"'Sure, Moll,' says she, 'ye wouldn't desart me now an' it me last show.
Thim widdys can marry who they plaze, bad scran to 'em, but if Misther Dooley gets from me, divil fly wid the husband I'll get at all, at all,'
beginnin' to cry.
"So, afther a dale av palatherin', Moll consinted to thry, bein' it was the third time Miss Rooney had been to her, besides, she wanted to save her charackther for a knowledgeable woman. So she aggrade to do her best, an' gev her a little bag to carry wid 'erbs in it, an' writ some words on two bits av paper an' the same in Latin. It was an awful charm, no more do I remimber it, fur it was niver towld me, nor to anny wan else, fur it was too dreadful to say axceptin' in Latin an' in a whisper fur fear the avil sper'ts 'ud hear it, that don't undhershtand thim dape langwidges.
"'Now, darlint,' says owld Moll, a-givin' her wan, 'take you this charm an' kape it on you an' the bag besides, an' ye must manage so as this other paper 'ull be on Misther Dooley, an' if it fails an' he don't marry ye I'll give ye back yer money an' charge ye nothing at all,' says she.
"So Miss Rooney tuk the charms an' paid Owld Moll one pound five, an' was to give her fifteen s.h.i.+llins more afther she was married to Dooley.
"She wint home, bothered entirely how she'd get the charm on Dooley, an'
the avenin' come, an' he wid it, an' shtill she didn't know. So he set an'
talked an' talked, an' by an' by he dhrunk up the rest av the whiskey an'
wather in his gla.s.s an' got up to go.
"'Why, Misther Dooley,' says she, bein' all at wanst shtruck be an idee.
'Was iver the like seen av yer coat?' says she. 'Sure it's tore in the back. Sit you down agin wan minnit an' I'll mend it afore ye can light yer pipe. Take it aff,' says she.
"'Axqueeze me,' says Dooley. 'I may be a bigger fool than I look, or I may look a bigger fool than I am, but I know enough to kape the coat on me back whin I'm wid a lady,' says he.
"'Then take a sate an' I'll sow it on ye,' says she to him agin, so he set down afore the fire, an' she, wid a pair av s.h.i.+zzors an' a nadle, wint behind him an' at the coat. 'Twas a sharp thrick av her, bekase she took the s.h.i.+zzors, an' whin she was lettin' on to cut aff the t'reads that she said were hangin', she ripped the collar, an' shlipped in the bit o'
paper, an' sowed it up as nate as a samesthress in less than no time.
"'It's much beholden to ye I am,' says Dooley, risin' wid his pipe lit.
'An' it's a happy man I'd be if I'd a young woman av yer size to do the like to me ivery day.'
"'Glory be to G.o.d,' says Miss Rooney to herself, fur she thought the charm was beginnin' to work. But she says to him, 'Oh, it's talkin' ye are. A fine man like you can marry who he plazes.'
"So Dooley wint home, an' she, thinkin' the business as good as done, towld her mother that night she was to marry Misther Dooley. The owld lady cudn't contain herself or the saycret aither, so the next mornin' towld it to her sister, an' she to her dawther that wint to school wid Missis McMurthry's gurrul. Av coorse the young wan cudn't howld her jaw anny more than the owld wans, an' up an' towld the widdy's dawther an' she her mother an' the rest o' the town, so be the next day ivery wan knew that Dooley was goin' to marry Miss Rooney: that shows, if ye want to shpread a bit o' news wid a quickness aiquel to the tellygraph, ye've only to tell it to wan woman as a saycret.
"Well, me dear, the noise the widdys made 'ud shtun a dhrummer. Dooley hadn't been in town fur a week, an' widdys bein' nacherly suspishus, they misthrusted that somethin' was wrong, but divil a wan o' thim thought he'd do such an onmannerly thrick as that. But they all belaved it, bekase widdys judge iverybody be themselves, so they were mighty mad.
"The Widdy McMurthry was first to hear the news, as her dawther towld her, an' she riz in a fury. 'Oh the owdashus villin,' says she; 'to think av him comin' here an' me listenin' at him that was lyin' fasther than a horse 'ud throt. But I'll have justice, so I will, an' see if there's law for a lone widdy. I'll go to the judge,' fur, I forgot to tell ye, it was jail delivery an' the coort was settin' an' the judge down from Dublin wid a wig on him the size av a bar'l.
"Whin they towld Missis O'Donnell, she bust out cryin' an' says, 'Sure it can't be thrue. It isn't in him to desave a poor widdy wid only two childher, an' me thrustin' on him,' so she wint into the back room an'
laid on the bed.
"But whin the Widdy Mulligan learned it, they thought she'd take a fit, the face av her got so red an' she chokin' wid rage. 'Tatther an' agers,'
says she. 'If I only had that vagabone here five minnits, it's a long day it 'ud be afore he'd desave another tinder-hearted faymale.'
"'Oh, be aisey,' says wan to her, 'faix, you're not the onliest wan that's in it. Sure there's the Widdy O'Donnell an' Missis McMurthry that he's desaved aiquelly wid yerself.'
"'Is that thrue?' says she; 'by this an' by that I'll see thim an' we'll go to the judge an' have him in the prision. Sure the Quane's a widdy herself an' knows how it feels, an' her judge 'ull take the part av widdys that's misconshtrewed be a nagurly blaggard like owld Dooley. Bad luck to the seed, breed, an' generation av him. I cud mop up the flure wid him, the divil roast him, an' if I lay me hands on him, I'll do it,' says she, an' so she would; an' a blessing it was to Misther Dooley he was not in town just thin, but at home, diggin' pitaties as fast as he cud, an'
chucklin' to himself how he'd send the pitaties to town be Paddy, an'
himself go to Clare an' get away from the whole tribe av widdys an' owld maids.
"So the Widdy Mulligan wint afther the Widdy O'Donnell an' tuk her along, an' they towld thim av the Widdy McMurthry an' how she was done be him, an' they got her too, fur they all said, 'Sure we wouldn't marry him fur him, but only want to see him punished fur misconshtructing phat we said to him an' lying to us.' Be this time half the town was ready an' aiger to go wid thim to the coort, an' so they did, an' in, wid the offishers thryin' to kape thim out, an' the wimmin shovin' in, an' all their frinds wid 'em, an' the shur'f callin' out 'Ordher in the coort,' an' the judge lookin' over his shpectacles at thim.
"'Phat's this at all?' says the judge, wid a solemnious voice. 'Is it a riat it is, or a faymale convulsion?'--whin he seen all the wimmin.
'Phat's the matther?' says he, an' wid that all the wimmin begun at wanst, so as the noise av thim was aiquel to a 'viction.
"'Marcy o' G.o.d,' says the judge, 'phat's in the faymales at all? Are they dishtracted entirely, or bewitched, or only dhrunk?' says he.
"'We're crazy wid graif, yer Lordshap,' they schraimed at him at wanst.
'It's justice we want agin the uppresser.'
"'Phat's the uppresser been a-doin'?' axed the judge.
"'Disthroyin' our pace, an' that av our families,' they said to him.
"'Who is the uppresser?' he axed.
"'Owld Dooley,' they all shouted at him at the wan time, like it was biddin' at an auction they were.
"So at first the judge cudn't undhershtand at all, till some wan whishpered the truth to him an' thin he scrotched his chin wid a pen.
"'Is it a man fur to marry all thim widdys? By me wig, he's a bowld wan.
Go an' fetch him,' he says to a consthable. 'Be sated, ladies, an' ye'll have justice,' he says to the widdys, very p'lite. 'Turn out thim other blaggards,' he says to the shur'f, an' away wint the polisman afther Dooley.
"He found him at home, wid his coat aff, an' him an' Paddy diggin' away at the pitaties for dear life, bekase he wanted to get thim done.
"'Misther Dooley,' says the consthable to him, 'ye're me prish'ner. Come along, ye must go wid me at wanst.'
"At first, Dooley was surprised in that degray he thought the life 'ud lave him, as the consthable come up behind him on the quiet, so as to give him no show to run away.
"'Phat for?' says Dooley to him, whin he'd got his wind agin.
"'Faix, I'm not sartain,' says the polisman, that wasn't a bad felly; 'but I belave it's along o' thim widdys that are so fond o' ye. The three o'
thim's in the coort an' all the faymales in town, an' the judge sint me afther ye, an' ye must come at wanst, so make ready to go immejitly.'
"'Don't go wid him,' says Paddy, wid his sleeves rowled up an' spitting in his hands. 'Lave me at him,' says he, but Dooley wouldn't, bekase he was a paceable man. But he wasn't anxshus to go to the coort at all; begob, he'd all the coortin' he naded, but bein' there was no help fur it, he got his coat, the same that Miss Rooney sowed the charm in, an' shtarted wid the consthable.
"Now, it was that mornin' that owld Rooney was in town, thryin' to sell a goat he had, that gev him no end o' throuble be losin' itself part of the time an' the rest be jumpin' on the thatch an' stickin' its feet through.
But he cudn't sell it, as ivery wan knew the baste as well as himself, an'
so he was sober, that wasn't common wid him. Whin he seen the widdys an'
the other wimmin wid thim shtravigerin' through the strate on the way to the coort an' heard the phillaloo they were afther makin', he axed phat the matther was. So they towld him, an' says he, 'Be the powers, if it's a question av makin' him marry some wan, me dawther has an inthrust in the matther,' so he dhropped the goat's shtring an' shtarted home in a lamplighter's throt to fetch her, an' got there about the time the polisman nabbed Dooley.
"'There, they're afther goin' now,' says he to her. 'Make haste, or we'll lose thim,' an' aff they run, she wid her charm an' he widout his coat, grippin' a s.h.i.+llalee in his fisht, an' caught up wid Paddy that was follerin' the polisman an' Dooley.
"So they jogged along, comfortable enough, the polisman an' Dooley in the lade, afther thim owld Rooney an' Paddy, blaggardin' the consthable ivery fut o' the way, an' offerin' fur to bate him so as he wouldn't know himself be lookin' in the gla.s.s, an' Miss Rooney in the rare, wondherin'