"Say to it," cried Terry, flinging his hat upon the ground in an ecstasy of delight; "what the mischief can I say? Bedad, there never was a mortial had the concate so complately licked out o' him as it's been deludhed out o' me at this present writin, an' to make my words good, av there was a bit of fire near, if I wouldn't make cindhers of that murdherin' ould catherwauler ov mine, I'm a grasshopper."
"It does you credit to own up to it so readily, Terry Magra," said the head fairy, pleased enough at the compliment. "An', by the way of rewardin' you for that same, we'll give you a blast of another sort." With that they turned to and executed a jig-tune, so swiftly-fingered, so lively and irresistibly sole-inspiring, that, with a wild scream of delight, Terry whipped off his great coat, and jumping on the level rock, went through the varied complications of the most intricate description of Irish dance.
"Murdher alive, av I only had a partner now," he cried. "Such elegant music, an' only one to be enjoyin' it." Faster and faster played the fairy pipers, and yet more madly Terry beat time upon the stone, making the mountains resound to his vociferous shouts, until exhausted at last, he jumped off, and sunk panting on the ground.
"Oh! tear an' aigers!" he cried, "an' av yez have a grain of compassion in thim insignificant tiniments of yours, fairies, darlin', won't yez lend us the loan of a pull out of that same bit of a bottle, for it's the seven senses that you've fairly batthered out o' me wid that rattlin' leg-teazer of a chune."
"Wid a heart an' a half, my hayro!" said the little piper, flinging Terry the fairy-bottle; "it's you that has the parliaminthary unction for the creather, if ever a sowl had. Don't be afeard of it, it won't hurt a feather of you, no more nor wather on a duck's back."
Thus encouraged, Terry lifted his elbow considerably, before he thought it prudent to desist, the fairy liquor appearing more delicious with each gulp, when, all at once—for Terry had a tolerable share of acuteness for a piper—the thought struck him that the little schemers might have a motive in thus plying him with such potential stuff.
"If you're at all inclined for a nap, Terry, my boy," said the fairy, blandly, "there's a lovely bank of moss fornent you, that'll beat the best feather-bed at the Globe Inn, in the town of Clonmel. Stretch yourself on it, aroon, an' we'll keep watch over you as tindherly as av your own mother was hangin' over yer cradle."
"Ho! ho! is it there yez are, you sootherin' vagabonds," said Terry to himself. "It's off o' my guard you want to ketch me, eh?" He was determined, however, to diplomatize, so he replied, with equal politeness, "It's thankful that I am to yer honors for the invite, but I wouldn't be makin' such a hole in my manners as to let a wink come on me in such iligant company."
"Oh, well, just as you like, Terry Magra," observed the fairy, with just enough of lemon in his tone to convince Terry that his surmise was correct. "At all events, if you're not sleepy now, you soon will be," the little fellow continued, "so, when you are, you will lie down without fear. In the meantime, we must go and inform our king how famously we've amused you, and what a fine fellow you are." So saying, with a sharp little squeal of a laugh, that Terry thought carried with it a sufficiency of sarcasm, the little piper and his companions rapidly descended from their perch, and vanished from his sight.
No sooner had they departed when Terry's ears were saluted by a singularly delightful buzzing noise, that, in spite of his endeavor to resist it, caused a growing drowsiness to steal over him. The declining daylight deepened into a still more roseate hue. Once or twice his eyelids drooped, but he recovered himself with a vigorous effort.