A shtory, is it? An’ me to be sittin’ here tellin’ a young lad shtories at the high noon of the day, and the job takin’ itself wings to fly off, I might be catchin’ and holdin’ down and I to go afther it instid! [_Sitting down by JIMMIE._] Where’s your Maw? JIMMIE. I dunno. She said she wasn’t going to be no fool softy no more, and then she went out quick like. What’s a fool softy? [_PAT is very uneasy. He does not answer, then goes to the door, looks out, comes back slowly._] JIMMIE. Paw, me leg hurts awful today. Tell me a story. PAT. All right, lad, I’ll tell ye a story. [_Sits down near sofa._] Did I ever tell you about the king of Ireland and his siven sons? No? Once upon a time there was a great, high-up, noble king reigned over Ireland with a golden crown on his noble head an’ a rulin’ shtick in his hand—Whin’ll your Maw be back? JIMMIE. I dunno. Go on with the story. PAT. Well, this grand king had siven sons, all fair and beautiful they were in armour of silver and shteel, an’ on their heads helmets covered with precious stones dug up out o’ the earth that would make your eyes blink for the shinin’. Bye-and-bye the siven lads grew up strong and mighty, and whin the king saw that they were gettin’ to man’s eshtate he got him together all of the workmen out of a job there were in the kingdom of Ireland, and he sets ’em to buildin’ siven great castles, each wan on a different high-up mountain-top, so high that the peaks and shpires of some of them made holes right through the blue sky, do ye mind? Well, whin the castles were all grand and ready he called his siven sons together, an’ he stood ’em all up in a glitterin’ row and he said to ’em, “Now, me byes, it’s no end of a foine time ye’ve been havin’ a-skylarkin’ ’round me kingdom, but it’s siven high castles I’ve built for ye now and ye’d better be gettin’ yourselves wives and some bits of furniture on the installment plan, maybe, and settlin’ down. Go forth now through all the world and find ye siven beautiful princesses, and the wan of ye that gits the beautifullest shall have the biggest castle.” [_NORA enters, grim. PAT notes her demeanor, but concludes comment is unwise. She takes off her bonnet and shawl and goes to her tub, listening to PAT._] JIMMIE. Go on, Paw, what did they do thin? PAT. [_Keeping a weather eye on NORA._] What did they do thin? Well, they looked and looked fer a year and a day, ivery one o’ them in a different counthry, but whiniver one of the siven would be findin’ a princess who seemed handsome and likely, whin he looked again careful like, he’d be feared one of his brothers would be findin’ a handsomer one, so he’d let her go and move on. JIMMIE. An’ all the beautiful princesses, weren’t there any anywhere no more? PAT. [_Slapping his leg in the joy of a sudden inspiration._]