"Yes, sir; Father James hoped that people might come from Dublin to see it. No play like it had ever been acted in Ireland before, sir."
"This carman of mine," I said to myself, "is an extraordinary fellow,—he has got a story about everyone; he is certainly a legitimate descendant of the old bards," and I leaned across the car and said to him:—
"And was the play performed?"
"No, sir. The priest had been learning them all the summer, but the autumn was on them before they had got it by rote, and a wind came and blew down one of the walls."
"And couldn't Father MacTurnan get the money to build it up?"
"Sure he might have got the money, but where would be the use when there was no luck in it."
"And who were to act the play?"
"The girls and boys in the parish, and the prettiest girl in all the parish was to play Good Deeds."
"So it was a miracle play," I said.
"Do you see that man there, sir? That's the priest coming out of James Burke's cabin."