Josiah then proceeded to inform him of the whole affair, from beginning to end; and concluded by saying, he supposed Lary was in drink, and therefore unconscious of the mischief he had occasioned.
The poor Irishman seemed lost with surprise at this strange account; and he tried in vain to remember the events of the night; and, after having turned the hatchet round and round, and carefully examined it at all points, he turned to his wife, and said—
“I surely did not take this hatchet with me to the fair; did I, Fanny?”
“I cannot answer for what you did at the fair, Patrick,” said his wife, sorrowfully; “I know I left you at midnight in a very questionable state, with some worthless idle fellows: did you stay at home, and mind your business, you would not get into such disgraceful scrapes as these.”
Pat shrugged up his shoulders, and sighed heavily; then, turning to Josiah, said—
“Your honour, I drank too much last night, and behaved like a madman, as these blows will sufficiently witness, though I cannot remember how I came by them, or what I did last night; but if this is my hatchet, which I see by the mark it is, why I know ’tis no use denying the fact. I am heartily sorry for it, and, if you will forgive me this once, I will devote all my leisure hours in restoring your garden to its original neatness.”
Josiah accepted his submission; and, after a long lecture on the ill effects of drinking, he said:—
“And now, friend Lary, I would thank thee to restore my cousin Rachel’s rabbits, which I suppose thee took by mistake last night.”
“Rabbits!” exclaimed both the inhabitants of the cottage at once. “Master Shirley, we have seen no rabbits.”
“It is useless to deny the fact,” said Josiah; “I saw them just now with my own eyes, in thy son Roderick’s arms.”