"Where am I?" Boyle asked.
"In the home of friends," Anna answered.
"Wud th' frien's donate a mouthful ov breath?"
He was let up. The story of the night was told to him. He listened attentively. When the story was told he thrust his hand into his pocket and brought forth some change.
"Hould yer han' out, ye black imp o' hell," he said to O'Hare. The sweep obeyed, but remarked that the town clock had already struck twelve. "I don't care a damn if it's thirteen!" he said. "That's fur bread, that's fur tay, that's fur tobacco an' that's fur somethin' that runs down yer throat like a rasp, fur me. Now don't let th' grass grow undther yer flat feet, ye divil."
After some minor instructions from Anna, the sweep went off on his midnight errand. The neighbors were sent home. The kettle replaced the pot on the chain, and we gathered full of ecstasy close to the fire.
"Whisht!" Anna said. We listened. Above the roar of the wind and the rattling of the casement we heard a loud noise.
"It's Billy thunderin' at Marget Hurll's doore," Jamie said.
O'Hare arrived with a bang! He put his bundles down on the table and vigorously swung his arms like flails around him to thaw himself out. Anna arranged the table and prepared the meal. Billy and Jamie went at the tobacco. Boyle took the whiskey and said:
"I thank my God an' the holy angels that I'm in th' house ov timperance payple!" Then looking at Jamie, he said: