I explained the whole case, and wound up with:
“And now Stanley's in my garden crying over his dog. Why doesn't he take him back? They're both unhappy.”
“Unhappy! There's no sense in the little man any more. But 'tis his fit.”
“What is his fit? He travels fifty miles a week to see the brute, and he pretends not to notice me when he sees me on the road; and I'm as unhappy as he is. Make him take the dog back.”
“It's his penance he's set himself. I told him by way of a joke, afther you'd run over him so convenient that night, whin he was drunk—I said if he was a Catholic he'd do penance. Off he went wid that fit in his little head an' a dose of fever, an nothin' would suit but givin' you the dog as a hostage.”
“Hostage for what? I don't want hostages from Stanley.”
“For his good behaviour. He's keepin' straight now, the way it's no pleasure to associate wid him.”
“Has he taken the pledge?”
“If 'twas only that I need not care. Ye can take the pledge for three months on an' off. He sez he'll never see the dog again, an' so mark you, he'll keep straight for evermore. Ye know his fits? Well, this is wan of them. How's the dog takin' it?”
“Like a man. He's the best dog in India. Can't you make Stanley take him back?”