"So the Widdy Mulligan wint afther the Widdy O’Donnell an’ tuk her along, an’ they towld thim av the Widdy McMurthry an’ how she was done be him, an’ they got her too, fur they all said, ’Sure we wouldn’t marry him fur him, but only want to see him punished fur misconshtructing phat we said to him an’ lying to us.’ Be this time half the town was ready an’ aiger to go wid thim to the coort, an’ so they did, an’ in, wid the offishers thryin’ to kape thim out, an’ the wimmin shovin’ in, an’ all their frinds wid ’em, an’ the shur’f callin’ out ’Ordher in the coort,’ an’ the judge lookin’ over his shpectacles at thim. "’Phat’s this at all?’ says the judge, wid a solemnious voice. ’Is it a riat it is, or a faymale convulsion?’--whin he seen all the wimmin. ’Phat’s the matther?’ says he, an’ wid that all the wimmin begun at wanst, so as the noise av thim was aiquel to a ’viction. "’Marcy o’ God,’ says the judge, ’phat’s in the faymales at all? Are they dishtracted entirely, or bewitched, or only dhrunk?’ says he. "’We’re crazy wid graif, yer Lordshap,’ they schraimed at him at wanst. ’It’s justice we want agin the uppresser.’ "’Phat’s the uppresser been a-doin’?’ axed the judge. "’Disthroyin’ our pace, an’ that av our families,’ they said to him. "’Who is the uppresser?’ he axed. "’Owld Dooley,’ they all shouted at him at the wan time, like it was biddin’ at an auction they were. "So at first the judge cudn’t undhershtand at all, till some wan whishpered the truth to him an’ thin he scrotched his chin wid a pen. "’Is it a man fur to marry all thim widdys? By me wig, he’s a bowld wan. Go an’ fetch him,’ he says to a consthable. ’Be sated, ladies, an’ ye’ll have justice,’ he says to the widdys, very p’lite. ’Turn out thim other blaggârds,’ he says to the shur’f, an’ away wint the polisman afther Dooley. "He found him at home, wid his coat aff, an’ him an’ Paddy diggin’ away at the pitaties for dear life, bekase he wanted to get thim done. "’Misther Dooley,’ says the consthable to him, ’ye’re me prish’ner. Come along, ye must go wid me at wanst.’ "At first, Dooley was surprised in that degray he thought the life ’ud lave him, as the consthable come up behind him on the quiet, so as to give him no show to run away. "’Phat for?’ says Dooley to him, whin he’d got his wind agin. "’Faix, I’m not sartain,’ says the polisman, that wasn’t a bad felly; ’but I belave it’s along o’ thim widdys that are so fond o’ ye. The three o’ thim’s in the coort an’ all the faymales in town, an’ the judge sint me afther ye, an’ ye must come at wanst, so make ready to go immejitly.’ "’Don’t go wid him,’ says Paddy, wid his sleeves rowled up an’ spitting in his hands. ’Lave me at him,’ says he, but Dooley wouldn’t, bekase he was a paceable man. But he wasn’t anxshus to go to the coort at all; begob, he’d all the coortin’ he naded, but bein’ there was no help fur it, he got his coat, the same that Miss Rooney sowed the charm in, an’ shtarted wid the consthable.