“None better than your honour and no trouble to you either. It was a powerful advice you gave me about the washboard, and if I didn’t come here to thank you before this it was not because I didn’t want to come, but that I couldn’t move hand or foot by dint of the cruel rheumatism put upon me by the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora, bad cess to them for ever: twisted I was the way you’d get a squint in your eye if you only looked at me, and the pain I suffered would astonish you.” “It would not,” said the Philosopher. “No matter,” said Meehawl. “What I came about was my young daughter Caitilin. Sight or light of her I haven’t had for three days. My wife said first, that it was the fairies had taken her, and then she said it was a travelling man that had a musical instrument she went away with, and after that she said, that maybe the girl was lying dead in the butt of a ditch with her eyes wide open, and she staring broadly at the moon in the night time and the sun in the day until the crows would be finding her out.” The Philosopher drew his chair closer to Meehawl. “Daughters,” said he, “have been a cause of anxiety to their parents ever since they were instituted. The flightiness of the female temperament is very evident in those who have not arrived at the years which teach how to hide faults and frailties, and, therefore, indiscretions bristle from a young girl the way branches do from a bush.” “The person who would deny that—” said Meehawl. “Female children, however, have the particular sanction of nature. They are produced in astonishing excess over males, and may, accordingly, be admitted as dominant to the male; but the well-proven law that the minority shall always control the majority will relieve our minds from a fear which might otherwise become intolerable.” “It’s true enough,” said Meehawl. “Have you noticed, sir, that in a litter of pups—” “I have not,” said the Philosopher. “Certain trades and professions, it is curious to note, tend to be perpetuated in the female line. The sovereign profession among bees and ants is always female, and publicans also descend on the distaff side. You will have noticed that every publican has three daughters of extraordinary charms. Lacking these signs we would do well to look askance at such a man’s liquor, divining that in his brew there will be an undue percentage of water, for if his primogeniture is infected how shall his honesty escape?” “It would take a wise head to answer that,” said Meehawl. “It would not,” said the Philosopher. “Throughout nature the female tends to polygamy.” “If,” said Meehawl, “that unfortunate daughter of mine is lying dead in a ditch—”