“Molly,” said he, “if you’ll give me time, I’ll tell you all that’s happened. But I can’t tell you where the cow is.”
“You sold her on the way, did you?” said Molly; “and where’s the money? How is—”
“Arrah! stop a while, Molly,” he interrupted, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“What bottle is that under your waistcoat?” she asked, spying the neck of it sticking out.
“Be easy, can’t you!” begged Mick, and he put the bottle on the table and said, “That’s what I got for the cow.”
His wife was thunderstruck. “A bottle!” she ejaculated, “an empty bottle, and nothing more?”
“Just an empty bottle,” Mick replied. “But—”
“And what good is it?” said Molly. “Oh, Mick! I never thought you were such a fool; and how will we pay the rent? and how—”
“Now, Molly,” said Mick, “can’t you stop a bit and hearken to reason? An old man overtook me on the big hill, half-way to Cork, and he made me sell him the cow, and said this bottle which he gave me in exchange would make me rich.”
“Make you rich!” cried Molly. “We’ll see what it will do for you,” and she snatched it up from the table, intending to break it over his head.