with—an’ that’s Shaun. They are mostly oncultavayted, an’ I almost said raydundant. Although I’d hate to call anyone raydundant onless I had to,” says the just-minded ould man.
“I’ll trow it here in the road an’ let some of them find it,” says Darby, dusperate. “I’ll take the chanst,” says he.
The King was shocked, an’, trowing up a warnin’ hand, he says:
“Be no manner of manes,” the fairy says, “you forget that thim ghosts were once min an’ women like yerself, so whin goold’s consarned they’re not to be thrusted. If one should find the comb he mightn’t give it to the banshee at all—he might turn ’bezzler an’ ’buzzle it. No, no, you must give it to herself pursnal, or else you an’ Bridget an’ the childher’ll be ha’nted all yer days. An’ there’s no time to lose, ayther,” says he.
“But Bridget an’ the childher’s waitin’ for me this minute,” wailed Darby. “An’ the pony, what’s become of her? An’ me supper?” he cried.
A little lad who was marchin’ just ahead turned an’ spoke up.
“The pony’s tied in the stable, an’ Bothered Bill
