ecase,’ says Jer, ‘if it isn’t done you’ll never be asy agin,’ says he, ‘or pusillanimous in your mind,’ says he; ‘so ax no more questions, but do my biddin’,’ says he.
“‘Well,’ says Terence, ‘have your own way,’ says he.
“An’ wid that he tuck the ould gandher an’ giv’ it to one iv the gossoons.
“‘An’ take care,’ says he, ‘don’t smother the crathur,’ says he.
“Well, as soon as the bird was gone, says Jer Garvan, says he:
“‘Do you know what that old gandher is, Terence Mooney?’
“‘Divil a taste,’ says Terence.
“‘Well, then,’ says Jer, ‘the gandher is your own father,’ says he.
“‘It’s jokin’ you are,’ says Terence, turnin’ mighty pale; ‘how can an ould gandher be my father?’ says he.