"Thin he'd tell thim a lot o' lies that they purtinded to belave an' didn't, bekase they're such desavers thimselves that it isn't aisey fur to do thim, but Dooley begun to think if it got anny hotter fur him he'd lave the pitaties to the widdys to divide bechune thim as a raytribution fur the loss av himself, an' go to Clare widout delay.
"While he'd this bother on him he got to know owld Miss Rooney, that lived wid her mother an' father on the farm next but wan to his own, but on the other side o' the way, an' the manes be which he got to know her was this. Wan mornin', whin Dooley's man, Paddy, wint to milk the cow, bad scran to the dhrop she'd to shpare, an' he pullin' an' pullin', like it was ringin' the chapel bell he was, an' she kickin', an' no milk comin', faix not as much as 'ud blind the eye av a midge. So he wint an' towld Misther Dooley.
"'I can get no milk,' says he. 'Begorra the cow's as dhry as a fiddler's troat,' says he.
"'Musha, thin,' says Misther Dooley, 'it's the lazy omadhawn ye are. I don't belave it. Can ye milk at all?' says he.
"'I can,' says Paddy, 'as well as a calf,' says he. 'But phat's the use ov pullin'? Ye'd get the same quantity from a rope,' says he.
"So Dooley wint out an' thried himself an' didn't get as much as a shmell of milk.
"'Phat's the matther wid the baste?' says he, 'an' her on the grass from sun to sun.'
"'Be jakers,' says Paddy, 'it's my consate that she's bewitched.'
"'It's thrue fur ye,' says Dooley, as the like was aften knewn. 'Go you to Misther Rooney's wid the pail an' get milk fur the calf, an' ax if there's a Pishogue hereabouts.'
"So Paddy wint an' come back sayin' that the young lady towld him there was.