“Well! Never mind old Phillips. You have done it, my friend!” “Oh Lord, Sir, and it’s done it I have, most com-plate! Oh, good luck to you, Sir, can you do nothing for me?” “I don’t know what’s to be done with such a mess as this. Tell me, first of all, what you put in the stocking, you unfortunate blunderer?” “Oh yes, Sir, and tell you true as if it was the last word I had to spake entirely, and the Lord be good to you, and Ted Connor ses he to ould Phillips, regarden the five as was owen by Tim, and not includen of the ten which was changed by Pat Reilly--” “You didn’t put Pat Reilly, or ould Phillips into the stocking, did you?” “Is it Pat or ould Phillips as was ever the valy of eighty-sivin pound ten, lost and gone, and includen the five as was owen by Tim, and Ted Connor--” “Then tell me what you _did_ put in the stocking, and let me take it down. And then hold your tongue, if you can, and go your way, and come back to-morrow.” The particulars of the notes were taken, without any reference to ould Phillips: who could not, however, by any means be kept out of the story; and the man departed. When he was gone, the stocking-foot was shown to the then Chief Engraver of the notes, who said that if anybody could settle the business, his son could. And he proposed that the particulars of the notes should not be communicated to his son, who was then employed in his department of the Bank, but should be put away under lock and key; and that if his son’s ingenuity should enable him to discover from these ashes what notes had really been put in the stocking, and the two lists should tally, the man should be paid the lost amount. To this prudent proposal the Bank of Ireland readily assented; being extremely anxious that the man should not be a loser; but, of course, deeming it essential to be protected from imposition.