"What would you advise me to do, Jim?" inquired Pat.
"Well, I don't know," replied the other, "it's a mighty delicate point to give a man advice upon; but if you'd be ruled by me you'd go an' ax ould Biddy na Dhioul."
"By gorra, but you're right there," said Pat, "I wondher I didn't think of that afore."
"It isn't too late."
"True for you; an' it's there I'll go this blessed minute. I'd rather know my fate at onst, than be kep' like a mouse in a thrap, wondhering whether the cat'll play wid me, or ate me in the mornin'."
"So, it is thrapped you are, Pat, is it? arrah, how did you manage that?"
"Faix, an' I walked into it wid my eyes open, like any other omadhoun of a mouse."
"Bedad, it takes a sinsible mouse to walk away from the smell of cheese, anyway, Pat."
"That's a fact, Jim, but I must be off to ould Biddy's: I'll get my mind aised one way or the other, wid a blessin' afore I sleep."
"Good luck attend you," said Jim, sorely mortified that with all his cunning, he couldn't get at the rights of the matter.