“Now, supposin’,” says Manis, says he, digging the point of the tongs into the scowder, “supposin’,” says he, “there was my father’s farm. He cut it across this way,” says he, drawing the tongs through the scowder in one way. “Then he cut it across this way,” says he, drawing the tongs through the scowder in the other direction; “and that quarter,” says he, tossing away a quarter of the scowder with the point of the tongs, “he gave to my mother. And that quarter there,” says he, tossing off the other quarter into the dirt, “he gave to Teddy, and this quarter here,” says he, tossing the third quarter, “he gave to Tom. And this last quarter,” says Manis, says he, digging the point of the tongs right into the heart of the other quarter of the scowder, and lifting it up and looking at it, “this quarter,” says he, “he gave to the priest,” and he pitched it as far from him down the floor as he could. “And there,” says he, throwing down the tongs, “he left poor Manis what he is today -- a beggar and an outcast! That, ma’am,” says he, “is my story, and now that I’ve relieved my mind, I’ll sleep sound and well till morning.” And down he stretched himself by the fireside, and begins to snore again.
And the old woman she started up to the room, and she told the old man what had happened to the scowder; and the old fellow got into a mighty rage entirely, and was for getting up and going down to have the life of Manis, for he was starving with the hunger. But she tried to soothe him as well as she could. And then he told her to go down to the kitchen and make something else on the fire for him.
“O, it’s no use,” says she, “a-trying to make anything on the fire, for there’ll be some other ache coming on that fellow’s ankle or some other trouble on his mind, and he’ll be getting up in the middle of it all to tell me about it. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” says she, “I’ll go out and I’ll milk the cow, and give you a good jug of sweet milk to drink, and that will take the hunger off you till morning.”
He told her to get up quick and do it, or she would find him dead of the hunger.
And off she went as quickly as she could, and took a jug off the kitchen dresser, and slipped out, leaving Manis snoring loudly in the kitchen. But when Manis thought that she had had time to have the jug near filled from the cow, he slips out to the byre, and as it was dark he talked like the old man: “And,”says he, “I’ll die with the hunger if you don’t hurry with that.”
So she filled the jug, and she reached it to him in the dark, and he drank it off, and gave her back the empty jug, and went in and lay down.
Then she milked off another jug for herself and drank it, and came slipping in, and put the jug easy on the dresser, so as not to waken Manis, and went up to the room.
When she came up, the old fellow was raging there. Says he: “You might have milked all the cows in the county since, an’ me dead with hunger here waitin’ on it. Give me my jug of milk,” says he.
“And what do ye mean?” says she.