“Portlaw!” says Saint Pether. “Well, that’s sthrange,” says he, rubbin’ his chin. “You know I never forgets a name, but to my sartin knowledge I never heard of Portlaw before. Has he a clane record?”
“There’s a thrifle wrong about it,” says Saint Pathrick. “He’s down on the way-bill, but there are some charges agen him not quite rubbed out.”
“In that case,” says Saint Pether, “we’d best be on the safe side, an’ sind him to Limbo for a spell.”
Begor, when Paddy Power heard this he nearly lost his seven sinses wud the fright, so he puts his face close up to the wicket, an’ he cries out in a pitiful voice—
“O blessed Saint Pether, don’t be too hard on me. Sure even below, where the law is sthrict enough agen a poor sthrugglin’ boy, they always allows him the benefit of the doubt, an’ I gives you my word, yer reverence, ’twas only by an accident the slate wasn’t rubbed clane. I know for sartin that Father McGrath said some of the words of the absolution before the life wint out of my body. Don’t dhrive a helpless ould man to purgathory, I beseeches you. Saint Pathrick will go bail for my good behaviour, I’ll be bound; an’ ’tis many the prayer I said to your own self below!”
Faix, Saint Pether was touched wud the implorin’ way Paddy spoke, an’ turnin’ to Saint Pathrick he says, “’Tis a quare case, sure enough. I don’t know that I ever remimber the like before, an’ my memory is of the best. I think we’d do right to have a consultation over the affair before we decides wan way or the other.”
“Ah, give the poor angashore a chance,” says Saint Pathrick. “’Tis hard to scald him for an accident. Besides,” says he, brightenin’ up as a thought sthruck him, “you say you never had a man before from the parish of Portlaw, an’ I remimber you towld me wance that you’d like to have a represintative here from every parish in the world.”
“Thrue enough,” says Saint Pether; “an’ maybe I’d never have another chance from Portlaw.”
“Maybe not,” says Saint Pathrick, humourin’ him.
So Saint Pether takes a piece of injy-rubber from his waistcoat-pocket, an’ goin’ over to the enthry-book he rubs out the charges agen Paddy Power.