o,’ says the saint; ‘I’m no tinker by thrade, King O’Toole; I’ve a betther thrade than a tinker,’ says he. ‘What would you say,’ says he, ‘if I made your ould goose as good as new?’
“My dear, at the word o’ making his goose as good as new, you’d think the poor ould King’s eyes was ready to jump out iv his head, ‘and,’ says he—‘throth, thin, I’d give you more money nor you could count,’ says he, ‘if you did the like, and I’d be behoulden to you in the bargain.’
“‘I scorn your dirty money,’ says Saint Kavin.
“‘Faith, thin, I’m thinkin’ a thrifle o’ change would do you no harm,’ says the King, lookin’ up sly at the ould caubeen that Saint Kavin had on him.
“‘I have a vow agin it,’ says the saint; ‘and I am book sworn,’ says he, ‘never to have goold, silver, or brass in my company.’
“‘Barrin’ the thrifle you can’t help,’ says the King, mighty cute, and looking him straight in the face.
“‘You just hot it,’ says Saint Kavin; ‘but though I can’t take money,’ says he, ‘I could take a few acres o’ land, if you’d give them to me.’
“‘With all the veins o’ my heart,’ says the King, ‘if you can do what you say.’
“‘Thry me!’ says Saint Kavin. ‘Call down your goose here,’ says he, ‘and I’ll see what I can do for her.’
“With that the King whistled, and down kem the poor goose, all as one as a hound, waddlin’ up to the poor ould cripple, her masther, and as like him as two pays. The minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, ‘I’ll do the job for you,’ says he, ‘King O’Toole!’