MEMORIES OF THE COUNTRY PEOPLE 97 



An array of spoons and forks and knives marked 

 his place, but the busy waitress brought no filled 

 plate to put between them. The old dealer 

 fumbled at the spoons and the forks, then he 

 crooked a finger beckoning, while his other hand 

 pointed to the spoons, and his mysterious whisper 

 hissed across the room. 



" Miss, Miss," the maid turned, " Miss " very 

 apologetically and softly. " Would you take away 

 this joolery now and get us a bit to ate." 



At Rathkeale one man who had come into 

 money entertained a friend and considering 

 whisky too ordinary ordered a bottle of the best 

 claret. 



'* Isn't it fine sthuff ? " he questioned, watching 

 his friend drink. 



The friend tasting again remarked feeUngly 

 that for his part he'd say " 'twas like ink, but faix 

 it mightn't be bad at all if ye ran a blasht of whisky 

 through it," he added with kindly desire to please. 



An Irishman is very seldom short of an answer 

 and never of an excuse. He will always have half 

 a dozen good reasons as to why he did not do 

 what he was told to, or why he had done something 

 he was never told to, and you may corner him 

 and apparently prove things to him, and he will 

 have the last word. 



Picture a poor lady who loves her garden, and 

 has directed that certain tender plants shall be 

 carefully covered every night. 



