"That's the last lie you towld, Mr. Terry, and you know it," the leprechaun answered, tartly, "when your heart is fairly leapin' in your body because you've had the luck to lay a howld of me."
"Well, an' can't a fella be glad at his own luck, an' yet sorry if anybody else is hurted by it," said Terry, apologetically.
"You can't humbug me, you covetious blaggard," the fairy went on. "But I'll thry you, anyway—now listen to me. The fairies that you have just been so wicked as to inthrude your unwelcome presence upon, were all leprechauns like myself—immortal essences, whose duty it was to make and guard the treasures, that you saw in spite of all the terrors that we employed to frighten you away. So long as they were unobserved by mortal eyes, our existence was a bright and glorious one; but, once seen, we are obliged to abandon our fairy life and shape, take this degrading form, and work at a degrading occupation, subject to the ailments and mishaps of frail humanity, and forced to live in constant fear of your insatiate species. Now, the only chance I have to regain the blissful immortality I have lost, is for you to be magnanimous enough to relinquish the good fortune you anticipate from my capture. Set me unconditionally free, and I can revel once more in my forfeited fairy existence—persevere in your ungenerous advantage, and I am condemned to wander a wretched out-cast through the world—now, what is your determination?"
Terry's better feelings prompted him at first to let the little creature go, but love of lucre got the upper hand, and after a slight pause of irresolution, he replied:
"Indeed, an' it's heart sick that I am to act so conthrary, but I'll leave it to yerself if it ain't agin nature for a man to fling away his luck. Shoemakin' is an iligant amusement, an' profitable; you'll soon get mighty fond of it; so, I'm afeard I'll have to throuble you to do somethin' for me."
"I thought how it would be; you're all alike," said the fairy, sadly; "selfish to the heart's core. Well, what do you want? I'm in your power, and must fulfill your desire."
"Long life to you; now ye talk sense," cried Terry, elated. "Sure I won't be hard on you—a thrifle of money is all I wish for in the world, for everything else will follow that."
"More, perhaps, than you imagine—cares and anxieties," said the leprechaun.
"I'll risk all them," replied Terry; "come, now, I'll tell you what you may do for me. Let me find a shillin' in my pocket every time I put my fist into it, an' I'll be satisfied."
"Enough! it's a bargain; and now that you have made your wish, all your power over me is gone," said the leprechaun, springing out of his hand like a grasshopper, and lighting on the branch beside him; "it's a purty sort of a fool you are," it continued, with a chuckle, "when the threasures of the universe were yours for the desire, to be contented with a pitiful pocket-full of shillin's! ho! ho!" and the little thing laughed like a cornkrake at the discomfited Terry.