me an’ your wish’ll come thrue,’ says she. A peddler was crying his wares out in the lane. ‘Lanterns, tin lanterns!’ cried the peddler. ‘I wish I had one of thim lanterns,’ says Andy, careless, and bendin’ over to get a coal for his pipe, when, lo and behold, there was the lantern in his hand.
“Well, so vexed was Peggy that one of her fine wishes should be wasted on a palthry tin lantern, that she lost all patience with him. ‘Why thin, bad scran to you!’ says she—not mindin’ her own words—‘I wish the lantern was fastened to the ind of your nose!’
“The word wasn’t well out of her mouth till the lantern was hung swinging from the ind of Andy’s nose in a way that the wit of man couldn’t loosen. It took the third and last of Peggy’s wishes to relayse Andy.”
“Look at that, now!” cried a dozen woices from the admiring crowd. “Darby said so from the first.”
Well, after a time people used to come from miles around to see Darby and sit undher the sthraw-stack beside the stable to adwise with our hayro about their most important business—what was the best time for
