"Well, Father John," said McKeon, "how are you this morning?" "Why then, as luckily I didn't dine with you, Mr. McKeon, I'm pretty much as I usually am,--and, thank God, that's well. I'm told you had those poor fellows that were with you last night, laid on a mattress, and that you sent them home that way to Carrick on a country car, and that they couldn't move, leaving this at six this morning." "Oh, nonsense, Father John! who was telling you them lies?" "But wasn't it true? Didn't they go home on one of the cars off the farm, and young Michael driving them, and they on a mattress?" "And sure, Father John, you wouldn't have had me let them walk home to Carrick after dinner?" "They were little fit for walking, I believe; why they couldn't so much as sit up in the car. Will you never have done, Mr. McKeon; don't you know the sin of drunkenness?" "The sin of drunkenness! me know it! Indeed I don't then. When did you ever see me drunk? Come, which was a case last, Father John--you or I?" "God forgive me, but I believe some boys did make me rather tipsy the first day I ever was in France; and my head should have been full of other things; and I believe if you were to swim in punch it wouldn't hurt you; but you know as well as I can tell you, it's worse for you to be making others drink so much who can't bear it as you can, than if you were hurting yourself." "And you know, as well as I can tell you, that yourself would be the last man to take the whiskey off the table, as long as the lads that were with you chose to be drinking it; and I think when I sent them boys off to Carrick as comfortably asleep as if they were in bed, so that they wouldn't be too late at business this morning, I acted by them as I'd wish anybody to act by me if I had an accident; and if that an't being a good Christian, I don't know what is. So lave off preaching, Father John, and come round to the stables, till I show you the mare that'll win at Carrick; at least, it 'll be a very good nag that 'll take the shine out of her." "I hope you'll win, Mr. McKeon, in spite of your villany in making those young fellows drunk. But I'll not look at the mare just at present; more by token I'm told she's not very civil to morning visitors." "Arrah, nonsense, man! she's as quiet a mare as ever went over a fence, when she's well handled." "But you see I can't handle her well; and as I want to see the good woman that owns you, if you please, I'll go into the house instead of into the stable." "Well, every man to his choice; and I'll see Playful get her gallop. But I tell you what, Father John, if you don't mind what you're after with Mrs. McKeon, I'll treat you a deal worse than I did those two fellows I sent home to Carrick on a mattress."