"Faix, then, yer riverence," said Joe Reynolds from the bottom of the table, "you may tell by the way the boys take to the bottle, that they'll behave themselves dacently and discreatly, like Christians."
"Indeed, then, Reynolds, where you are, and the whiskey with you, I believe there's likely to be little discretion but the discretion of drunkenness,—and not much of that."
"Thank ye, Father John, and it's you have always the kind word for me."
"But, Father John," began Mary, "you're not really going to go without so much as a tumbler of punch?"
"Not a drop, Mary, my dear; I took my punch after dinner—and I can't stand too much. Good night, Feemy—you'll stay and have a dance I suppose; good night, Captain Ussher."
And Father John got up from table, and went out of the room. As soon, however, as Denis saw that he was really going, he rose and followed him out of the door.
"Sit down, Denis, sit down—don't be laving your company such a night as this."
"But I want to have jist a word with yer riverence."
"Well, what is it?"
"Jist step outside then, Father John."