“Why, the weddin', acushla. When will it take place? I think the Monday afther the last call 'ud be the best time. We wouldn't lose a day thin. Throth, I long to hear my last call over, Phelim, jewel.” Phelim gave her another look. “The last call! Thin, by the vestment, you don't long half as much for your last call as I do.” “Arrah, Phoilim, did you take the--the--what you wor wantin' awhile agone? Throth, myself disremimbers.” “Ay, around dozen o' them. How can you forget it?” The idiot in the corner here gave a loud snore, but composed himself to sleep, as if insensible to all that passed. “Throth, an' I do forget it. Now, Phelim, you'll not go till you take a cup o' tay wid myself. Throth, I do forget it, Phelim darlin', jewel.” Phelim's face now assumed a very queer expression. He twisted his features into all possible directions; brought his mouth first round to one ear and then to the other; put his hand, as if in great pain, on the pit of his stomach; lifted one knee up till it almost touched his chin, then let it down, and instantly brought up the other in a similar manner. “Phelim, darlin', what ails you?” inquired the tender old nymph. “Wurrah, man alive, aren't you well?” “Oh, be the vestment,” said Phelim, “what's this at all? Murdher, sheery, what'll I do! Oh, I'm very bad! At death's door, so I am! Be gorra, Mrs. Doran, I must be off.” “Wurrah, Phelim dear, won't you stop till we settle everything?” “Oh, purshuin' to the ha'p'orth I can settle till I recover o' this murdherin' colic! All's asthray wid me in the inside. I'll see you--I'll see you--_Hanim an dioul!_ what's this?--I must be off like a shot--oh, murdher sheery?--but--but--I'll see you to-morrow. In the mane time, I'm--I'm--for ever oblaged to you for--for--lendin' me the--loan of--oh, by the vestments, I'm a gone man!--for lendin' me the loan of the ten guineas--Oh, I'm gone!” Phelim disappeared on uttering these words, and his strides on passing out of the house were certainly more rapid and vigorous than those of a man laboring under pain. In fact, he never looked behind him until one-half the distance between the priest's house and his father's cabin had been fairly traversed. Some misgivings occurred to the old housekeeper, but her vanity, having been revived by Phelim's blarney, would not permit her to listen to them. She had, besides, other motive to fortify her faith in his attachment. First, there was her money, a much larger sum than ever Phelim could expect with any other woman, young or old; again, they were to be called on the following Sunday, and she knew that when a marriage affair proceeds so far, obstruction or disappointment is not to be apprehended. When Phelim reached home, he found the father returned after having borrowed a full suit of clothes for him. Sam Appleton on hearing from Larry that Bouncing Phelim was about to get a “Great Match,” * generously lent him coat, waistcoat, hat, and small-clothes.