It was the voice of Shamesy Golliher coming from behind a screen of reeds where he had been fishing.
"'Tis a warm day," he said, pushing back his faded straw hat from his brow, "Glory be to the Son of God!"
This was a pious exclamation, but the manner of its intonation seemed to make it comical for John Brennan laughed and Shamesy Golliher laughed.
"Now isn't them the clever, infernal little gets of fishes? The divil a one can I catch only the size of pinkeens, and I wanting to go to Garradrimna with a hell of a thirst!"
"And is that all you have troubling you?" said John.
"Is that all? Begad if it isn't enough after last night. If the priests knew all the drink that bees drunk at concerts in aid of Temperance Halls you wouldn't see a building of that kind in the country.
"Now down with me last night to the concert with me two lovely half-pints of malt. Well, to make a long story short, I finished one of them before I went in. I wasn't long inside, and I think it was while Harry Holton was singing, when who should give me a nudge only Hubert Manning: 'Are ye coming out, Shamesy?' says he. He had two bottles of stout and a naggin, and we had them finished before Harry Holton had done his first song. I was striving for to crush back into me place when who should I knock against only Farrell McGuinness? He had a lot of bottles in his pocket. He seemed to have about four dozen of stout on his person, according to the noise he made: 'For the honor of Jases,' says he, 'will you not spill me porter?' But then when he saw it was me he had in it: 'Come to hell oura this,' says he, 'into the night air.' I was so glad to see that he hadn't broken his bottles, I introduced th'other half pint. Sure he nearly swallowed it, bottle and all. Then we fell to at the porter, and such a bloody piece of drinking never was seen. And it wasn't that we had plenty of drink of our own, but strange people were coming running through the wood putting half-pints and naggins into our mouths just as if we were little sucking childer. I fell a corpse under a tree about eleven. I don't know how long I was insensible, but when I came to I had a quare feeling that I was in Hell or some place. I wasn't able to move an inch, I was that stiff and sick.... Somewhere near me I could hear two whispering and hugging in the darkness. They were as close as ever they could be. I couldn't stir to get a better look for fear they'd hear me. But there was quare goings on I can tell you, things I wouldn't like to mention or describe. Whisper, I'm near sure it was Ulick Shannon and the schoolmistress, Miss Kerr, or whatever the hell her name is——."
Shamesy's sickening realism was brought to an abrupt end by the ducking of his cork, which had been floating upon the surface of the water. There was a short moment of joyous excitement and then a dying perch lay on the grass by the side of John Brennan.
He viewed with sorrow that clean, shining thing wriggling there beneath the high heavens. Its end had come through the same pitiful certainty as that of the rabbits which had aforetime contributed to the thirst of Shamesy, who presently said with delight:
"Now I have the correct number. I can sell them for sixpence in 'The World's End,' and you'd never know the amount of good drink that sixpence might bring."