“You hadn't the manners to ask me to sit down; but I always make it a point of conscience to take care of myself, landlord.”
There was not a man about the fire who did not stand up, as if struck with a sudden recollection, and offer him a seat.
“No,” said he, “thank you, my good fellows, I am very well as it is: I suppose, mistress, you are the landlady,” addressing Nancy; “if you be, I'll thank you to bring me a gill of your best whiskey,—your best, mind. Let it be as strong as an evil spirit let loose, and as hot as fire; for it can't be a jot too ardent such a night as this, for a being that rides the devil.”
Nancy started up instinctively, exclaiming, “Indeed, plase your honor's reverence, I am the landlady, as you say, sir, sure enough; but, the Lawk save and guard us! won't a gallon of raw whiskey be too much for one man to drink?”
“A gallon! I only said a gill, my good hostess; bring me a gill—but I forget—I believe you have no such measure in this country; bring me a pint, then.”
Nancy now went into the bar, whither she gave Ned a wink to follow her; and truly was glad of an opportunity of escaping from the presence of the visitor. When there, she ejaculated—
“May the holy Mother keep and guard us, Ned, but I'm afeard that's no Christian crathur, at all at all! Arrah, Ned, aroon, would he be that ould Square Grame, that Shane Fadh, maybe, angered, by spakin' of him?”
“Troth,” said Ned, “myself doesn't know what he is; he bates any mortal I ever seen.”
“Well, hould agra! I have it: we'll see whether he'll drink this or not, any how.”
“Why, what's that you're doin'?” asked Ned.