Mr. J. ’Tis a great head you have on you, Timothy James, and it’s sorry I am it was myself was in the whale and not you.
T. J. Faith, ’tis glad I am I was never in a whale, for they do say they belong to the English King, the creatures, and God knows what may come of the like of that!
Mr. J. Is it the King of England’s they are? Then, Glory be to God, I’ll have no more to do with them!
T. J. Sure, and there’s nothing wrong with the King’s money, is there? And it’s plenty of that there will be, I’m thinking. I tell you, it’s the grand story they’ll make in the history-books till the world’s end of Michael Flannigan Joner that was ate by a whale!
Mrs. J. And devil a word will they say of Bridget Ellen, his wife, that was married to a mad fellow.
T. J. Let you not be vexing yourself now. I wouldn’t wonder would one of them writing fellows be writing a book about you, or maybe a play, and it’s the grand talk there will be of Joner’s wife at the latter end.
Mrs. J. It might.
(CURTAIN)
The Mystery of the
Apple-pie Beds
(LEAVES FROM A HOLIDAY DIARY)