“‘It’ll be the best o’ your play, so,” says I, “to leg it away home out o’ this.”

“‘An’ who’ll ride her, so?” says he.

“‘Let the divil ride her,” says I.’

Leigh Kelway, who had been leaning back seemingly half asleep, obeyed the hypnotism of Slipper’s gaze, and opened his eyes.

‘That was now all the conversation that passed between himself and meself,’ resumed Slipper, ‘and there was no great delay afther that till they said there was a race startin’ and the dickens a one at all was goin’ to ride only two, Driscoll, and one Clancy. With that then I seen Mr. Kinahane, the Petty Sessions clerk, goin’ round clearin’ the coorse, an’ I gethered a few o’ the neighbours, an’ we walked the fields hither and over till we seen the most of th’ obstackles.

“‘Stand aisy now by the plantation,” says I; “if they get to come as far as this, believe me ye’ll see spoort,” says I, “an’ ’twill be a convanient spot to encourage the mare if she’s anyway wake in herself,” says I, cuttin’ somethin’ about five foot of an ash sapling out o’ the plantation.

“‘That’s yer sort!” says owld Bocock, that was thravellin’ the racecoorse, peggin’ a bit o’ paper down with a thorn in front of every lep, the way Driscoll’d know the handiest place to face her at it.

‘Well, I hadn’t barely thrimmed the ash plant—’

‘Have you any jam, Mary Kate?’ interrupted Flurry, whose meal had been in no way interfered with by either the story or the highly-scented crowd who had come to listen to it.

‘We have no jam, only thraycle, sir,’ replied the invisible Mary Kate.

‘I hadn’t the switch barely thrimmed,’ repeated Slipper firmly, ‘when I heard the people screechin’, an’ I seen Driscoll an’ Clancy comin’ on, leppin’ all before them, an’ owld Bocock’s mare bellusin’ an’ powdherin’ along, an’ bedad! whatever obstackle wouldn’t throw her down, faith, she’d throw it down, an’ there’s the thraffic they had in it.

“‘I declare to me sowl,” says I, “if they continue on this way there’s a great chance some one o’ thim ’ll win,” says I.

“‘Ye lie!” says the bandmasther, bein’ a thrifle fulsome after his luncheon.

“‘I do not,” says I, “in regard of seein’ how soople them two boys is. Ye might observe,” says I, “that if they have no convanient way to sit on the saddle, they’ll ride the neck o’ the horse till such time as they gets an occasion to lave it,” says I.

“‘Arrah, shut yer mouth!” says the bandmasther; “they’re puckin’ out this way now, an’ may the divil admire me!” says he, “but Clancy has the other bet out, and the divil such leatherin’ and beltin’ of owld Bocock’s mare ever you seen as what’s in it!” says he.

‘Well, when I seen them comin’ to me, and Driscoll about the length of the plantation behind Clancy, I let a couple of bawls.

“‘Skelp her, ye big brute!” says I. “What good’s in ye that ye aren’t able to skelp her?”’

The yell and the histrionic flourish of his stick with which Slipper delivered this incident brought down the house. Leigh Kelway was sufficiently moved to ask me in an undertone if ‘skelp’ was a local term.