"Yes, an', mammy, we don't want to be like daddy whin we grow up, so we may sign, mayn't we?" eagerly put in Teddie, the youngest.
"Ye might be worse nor yer poor father, an' don't ye say a worrud against him; an' as for ye signin' the pledge, ye'll do no sich thing. A dhrap uv the craythur now an' thin won't hurt a livin' soul; an' I'll not have ye sit yersilves up to be betther nor yer own father an' mother." And poor deluded Mrs. Ryan finished her third glass of hot whiskey and water, and drained the sweet dregs into the open mouth of her wan-faced baby.
A few days after, his drinking bout being over for the time being, Donovan Ryan sat over the kitchen fire watching his wife's preparations for tea.
"Shure, Patty, have ye heard that Harry Fisher has turned teetotal?" he suddenly said.
"Niver, shurely, now; what's the likes uv him, as niver gits dhrunk more nor wance in a blue moon, nade to be jhinin' a wake-minded, wathery set like the teetotalers?" exclaimed Mrs. Ryan, in a tone of irritation.
Donovan stirred uneasily.
"Sorra am I the man to say he's made a misthake, for I'd jhine that same set mesilf if I thought I'd howld out whin the dhrink craze takes me."
"I'd be ashamed to own ye for me husban' if ye made such a fool uv yersilf, Donovan," cried his wife, with energy. "It's thrue enough ye overstips the bounds uv sobriety oftener nor Harry Fisher, more shame to ye; but to make out ye're afeard uv a dhrap uv the craythur, an' give yer worrud niver to touch it, wad be to confess yersilf a poor wake gossoon widout any sperrit in him at all, at all."
Mrs. Ryan was never afraid of her husband in his sober moments, as will be readily observed. Indeed, at such times, he stood somewhat in awe of her sharp tongue. On the present occasion she continued to rail against water-drinkers and their weakmindedness, till, as if ashamed of the moral cowardice he had evinced, Donovan said:
"Whist, wumman, hould yer tongue, ye've no nade to fear I'll jhine the teetotalers, so make yer mind aisy on that point."