"Nick," said Bill, "you're complate; you want nothing barring a pair of Brian O'Lynn's breeches."
Bill, in fact, was bent on making his companion open the bargain, because he had often heard that, in that case, with proper care on his own part, he might defeat him in the long run. The other, however, was his match.
"What was the nature of Brian's garment," inquired Nick. "Why, you know the song," said Bill—
"'Brian O'Lynn had no breeches to wear,
So he got a sheep's skin for to make him a pair;
With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,
They'll be pleasant and cool, says Brian O'Lynn.'
"A cool pare would sarve you, Nick."
"You're mighty waggish to-day, Misther Dawson."
"And good right I have," said Bill; "I'm a man snug and well to do in the world; have lots of money, plenty of good eating and drinking, and what more need a man wish for?"
"True," said the other; "in the meantime it's rather odd that so respectable a man should not have six inches of unbroken cloth in his apparel. You are as naked a tatterdemalion as I ever laid my eyes on; in full dress for a party of scare-crows, William."
"That's my own fancy, Nick; I don't work at my trade like a gentleman. This is my forge dress, you know."
"Well, but what did you summon me here for?" said the other; "you may as well speak out, I tell you; for, my good friend, unless you do, I shan't. Smell that."