man,” a woice cried, “you’ve not only guv the by-word, but at the same time you’ve shouted out its answer!”
At the woice of the King—for ’twas the King who spoke—a great wakeness came over Darby, an’ he laned limp agin the three.
“Suppose,” the King went on, “that it was an inemy you’d met up with instead of a friend. Tare an’ ’ounds! he’d have our saycret and maybe he’d put the comeither on ye. Shaun,” he says, up to the dhriver, “this is the human bean we’re to take with us down to Croaghmah to meet the banshee.”
From a place down on the sate on the far side of the dhriver a deep, slow woice, that sounded as though it had fur on it, spoke up:
“I’m glad to substantiate any sarvice that will in any way conjuice to the amaylyro-ra-tion of any friend of the raynounded King Brian Connors, even though that friend be only a human bean. I was a humble human bean meself three or four hundhred years ago.”
At that statement Darby out of politeness thried to look surprised.
“You must be a jook or an earl, or some other rich
