“Go home now, and say you can’t proceed to Mill-street without taking the wife and children with you, to leave the measure of their feet for the brogues. Tell the cat also that he must come too, to have his fit taken; then tie him up in a bag, and bring him with you; fasten this hair around your neck,” added the old man, at the same time extracting a single white hair from his head, “and all the imps of hell cannot hurt you. But mind and don’t open your lips from the time you leave home till you come to this spot; and when you arrive here with the cat, sit down and wait the event.”
A thick fog now suddenly rose, and the old man was hidden from the sight of Larry, who, greatly overjoyed, returned to his cabin to execute the orders he had got, and was met by his wife, who was trembling for his safe return, but did not expect him sooner than night.
“Musha! Larry agragal, you’re welcome,” she exclaimed; “and what in the name of God turned you back?”
“I am coming for you and the gorsoons; you must all come to Mill-street to have your measure taken for the brogues.”
“And must I go too?” asked the cat.
“Faix you must,” said Larry; “if natural Christians couldn’t be fitted without bein’ on the spot, it’s hard to expect that you could.”
“And how am I to travel?” he asked.
“In a bag on my back,” replied Larry. “I’ll whip you through the country like a dinner to a hog, and man or mortal shall never be the wiser, if the brogue-maker keeps his tongue quiet.”
“I’ll go bail he will,” said Puss, “for I’ll kill him the very night the brogues is brought home.”
“Lord have mercy on him!” ejaculated Larry, his heart sinking within him.