“Sartinly, sur,” quoth Watty, turning quickly round and pretending to be very busy with the gate; “see this boult now! Och! my curse upon the whole corporation ov smiths, includin’ my own dacent uncle who made this same gate, an’ so stiff an’ bad, that all I can do won’t shoot back the boult! A clever workman is a fine thing! An’ so you won’t listen to what I have to say, sur?” “I can’t, I tell ye. I’m going in all haste to marry a couple.” “Och! if I knew that, I’d be very sorry to detain your rivirince! What I have to say may well keep for another opportunity. See this curst boult now! Throth the skin is torn off my fingers strivin’ to pull it back, an’ yer rivirince in sitch a disperate hurry! But ye have the patience of Job himself, beyant all doubt. God help the couple that’s expectin’ ye, sur! And who are they, the craithurs?” The impatient churchman looked at his watch and groaned: but as the inexorable gate would not open to let him pass through, he gratified the newsmonger with the information that “the couple he was about to marry were Dennis Costigan and Catherine, Miles Kavanagh’s daughter.” “Tunder an’ turf!” exclaimed Mr Colfer, opening his eyes as wide as he could, and raising his hands to express the extremity of astonishment. “Is it ould Dinnis Costigan, father to Jem, that’s goin’ to be married to handsome Kate Kavanagh, the belle o’ the barony?--it’s quite onpossible!” “It’s not impossible,” said the priest, angrily: “and I see nothing extraordinary in her father preferring to give her to a sensible steady old man, than to a wild young one. But don’t I see the gate open, and you pretending it was bolted? Oh! ye double-dyed slieveen, quit my way this moment, or by all that’s good I’ll let you feel the weight of this,” and he raised his horsewhip. “Och! wid all the pleasure in life!” quoth Watty, jumping quickly aside; and the gate flew open as if by magic, through which Father Tobin dashed at full speed. Watty then, sound in wind and limb, shot off through the fields--a short cut to a certain cross-road, about a mile from the priest’s house, and less than a quarter from Miles Kavanagh’s cottage, by which his reverence should pass. Puffing a little, he was just in time to gravely touch his hat as the priest cantered by. Then raising his voice he shouted after him, “Ride aisy, ride aisy, yer rivirince; take things aisy, can’t ye? Young James Costigan an’ Kate Kavanagh ran off together this mornin’, an’ they’re now man an’ wife! Arrah, take things aisy, can’t ye?” “Oh! ye limb of Satan!” ejaculated the disappointed clergyman, as he pulled up to hear these tidings, “why didn’t you tell me this before, and not send me off on a fool’s errand?” “How could I, sur?” responded the slieveen, meekly, “when you war in sitch a disperate hurry?--sure ye wouldn’t let me spake at all at all!”