"Here's your health, Misther Terry Magra," they all repeated, as the real mountain dew went merrily round.
"Faix, an' it's glad enough I'd be to return thanks for the favor," said Terry, "if it's a thing that I had a toothful of sperrits to join yez in; more, betoken, I'm as drouthy as a sand-bag this blessed hour."
"Never be it said that a dhry Christian should keep cotton in his mouth, while we can give him a dhrop to wash it out," said the little piper, throwing his bottle at Terry.
"Bedad, it's a dhrop, sure enough, that I'll be suckin' out of this," said Terry, as he regarded the tiny atom that rested in the palm of his hand. "Bad 'cess to me, if a scooped-out duck-shot wouldn't howld more nourishment. I'm obleeged to you for your good intentions, any way, but I b'leeve I won't be robbin' you this time."
"Don't be refusin' your liquor, you fool," said the piping little chap, with a wicked look out of his mites of eyes. "I'll be bound that such liquor never tickled your throat before."
"Well, rather than appear onfriendly, I'll just go through the motions; so here's jolly good luck to yez all," said Terry, raising the pellet-like material to his lips, when, to his intense satisfaction and wonder, his mouth instantly filled up, and run over, with a perfect flood of such whisky as he owned never yet had blessed his palate; again and again he repeated the experiment, and with the like delicious result.
"Hollo! there, give me back my bottle, you thief of the world; would you ruin us, entirely?" cried the little piper. "If the blaggard wouldn't drink the say dhry, I'm not here."
"By the sowl of me mother," said Terry, with a loud smack of enjoyment, "if the say was made of such stuff as that, may I never, if I wouldn't change places wid a mermaid's husband, and flourish a fish's tail all the days of my life."
"But this has nothin' to do concarnin' the music," says the fairy, "so, here goes to show you how much you know about humorin' the pipes." So saying, the whole army of pipers set up a chant, so small, and yet so exquisitely sweet and harmonious, that Terry scarcely dared to breathe, for fear of losing the slightest echo of such bewitching strains.
"What do you say to that?" inquired the little fellow, when they had finished.