“I see who you are,” she exclaimed, “a party of vagabond stage-players running away from Cork, where you haven’t paid your bills, and going to wheedle the people at Limerick out of their money.”
“That’s true enough, mistress,” said Fitzgerald, who had a soft tongue in his head when he chose to use it; “but we’re coming back soon, and we’ll pay you double for the beating your husband has got, and remember, the next time he deserves it you’ll pardon him for our sakes, and it will save you the trouble of giving it to him. It’s not to Limerick we’re going, but only to Castle Blatherbrook, where we’re to play for the entertainment of the wedding guests, for it’s Mr Maurice O’Finnahan is to marry Miss Kathleen O’Brien; and Mr O’Brien, the lady’s father, will be after paying us well, for he’s as rich as Croesus, and we’ll bring away a bottle or two of the cratur to comfort your old soul.”
As Phil had by this time ceased beating his horses, which stood quietly enough while Fitz was giving this address, the old man let go their heads and came to listen.
“Shure then you look like dacent stage-players, for certain; and as I’m mighty fond of a good tune, now just give us one, and maybe if I like it, I’ll let you off this time, and thank you into the bargain,” said the old soldier.
“With all the pleasure in the world,” answered Fitz. “There’s our musician sitting behind the coach, and he’ll tune up his fiddle while we tune up our pipes, and just consider what’s likely to please you.”
Larry, on hearing this, shouted out—
“I’ll be after giving you what’ll make your old hearts bump right merrily, if it doesn’t set your heels agoing,” and, putting his riddle to his chin, he began playing one of his merriest airs.
“Arrah now, but that’s a brave tune,” cried the old woman, beginning to shuffle her feet, though she hadn’t much elasticity in her limbs.
“It’s a song we’re after wanting,” cried the gate-keeper; “shure you’ll give us a song, gentlemen?”
“Well, you shall have one to begin with, and you shall have a dozen when we come back from the wedding,” cried Fitz, and he struck up—