AT A BLOW.”
“When the people sees that” says the waiver to himself, “the sorra one will dar’ for to come near me.”
And with that he towld the wife to scour out the small iron pot for him, “for,” says he, “it will make an illigant helmet;” and when it was done, he put it on his head, and his wife said, “Oh, murther, Thady, jewel; is it puttin’ a great heavy iron pot an your head you are, by way iv a hat?”
“Sartinly,” says he, “for a knight arriant should always have a weight an his brain.”
“But, Thady, dear,” says the wife, “there’s a hole in it, and it can’t keep out the weather.”
“It will be the cooler,” says he, puttin’ it an him; “besides, if I don’t like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp o’ sthraw, or the like o’ that.”
“The three legs of it looks mighty quare, stickin’ up,” says she.
“Every helmet has a spike stickin’ out o’ the top of it,” says the waiver, “and if mine has three, it’s only the grandher it is.”
“Well,” says the wife, getting bitther at last, “all I can say is, it isn’t the first sheep’s head was dhress’d in it”
“Your sarvint, ma’am,” says he; and off he set.