Again the fair Bridget sneezed; but it was so gently, and she blushed so much, that few except the little man took, or seemed to take, any notice; and no one thought of saying “God bless us.”
Billy all this time regarded the poor girl with a most rueful expression of countenance; for he could not help thinking what a terrible thing it was for a nice young girl of nineteen, with large blue eyes, transparent skin, and dimpled cheeks, suffused with health and joy, to be obliged to marry an ugly little bit of a man, who was a thousand years old barring a day.
At this critical moment the bride gave a third sneeze, and Billy roared out with all his might, “God save us.” Whether this exclamation resulted from his soliloquy, or from the mere force of habit, he never could tell exactly himself; but no sooner was it uttered than the little man, his face glowing with rage and disappointment, sprung from the beam on which he had perched himself, and shrieking out in the voice of a cracked bagpipe, “I discharge you from my service, Billy MacDaniel—take that for your wages,” gave poor Billy a most furious kick in the back, which sent his unfortunate servant sprawling upon his face and hands right in the middle of the supper table.
If Billy was astonished, how much more so was every one of the company into which he was thrown with so little ceremony. But when they heard his story, Father Cooney laid down his knife and fork, and married the young couple out of hand with all speed; and Billy MacDaniel danced the Rinka at their wedding, and plenty did he drink at it too, which was what he thought more of than dancing.
Bottom was mighty glad when his story was over, for he did not like the feeling that he could not get up from the stool when he tried, and he did not like to hear how small a voice he was speaking in; he would have liked to speak big and show what a great fellow he was in that queer company, but there he sat unable to move, and roaring as gently as any sucking dove to use his own words. As soon as he had got to the last word of his story he found that he could get up and off he floundered to his companions.
“Another fairy this time,” said King Oberon, as though he had not altogether relished Bottom’s story; “the Danish Elves have told us nothing yet.”
At this, which was of course equal to a command, a Danish Elf came forward, seated himself and began to tell about
