“Very well, then,” replied Toal; “what do you say yourself, Art? Am I right, or am I wrong?”
“You're right, Toal, sure enough; if it went to that, I don't care a curse about the world, or all Ballykeerin along wid it. I've a good business, and can set the world at defiance. If the people didn't want me, they wouldn't come to me.”
“Come, Toal,” said Jerry; “here—I'll hould you a pound note”—and lie pulled out one as he spoke—“that I'll propose a thing he won't do.”
“Aha—thank you for nothing, my customer—I won't take that bait,” replied the other; “but listen—is it a thing that he can do?”
“It is,” replied Jerry; “and what's more, every man in the room can do it, as well as Art, if he wishes.”
“He can?”
“He can.”
“Here,” said Toal, clapping down his pound. “Jack Mooney, put these in your pocket till this matther's decided. Now, Jerry, let us hear it.”
“I will;—he won't drink two tumblers of punch, runnin'; that is, one afther the other.”
“No,” observed Art, “I will not; do you want me to break the pledge?”