'Who's batin'the door?'says Nell;
'what's all the noise for?'says she.
'Who's in it?'says Andy.
'It's me,'says Jim.
'Who are you?'says Andy;'what's your name?'
'Jim Soolivan,'says he.
'By jabers,you lie,'says Andy.
'Wait till I get at you,'says Jim,hittin'
the door a lick iv the wattle you'd hear half a mile off.
'It's him,sure enough,'says Nell;'I
know his speech;it's his wandherin'sowl that can't get rest,the crass o'Christ betune us an'harm.'
'Let me in,'says Jim,'or I'll dhrive the door in a top iv yis.'
'Jim Soolivan--Jim Soolivan,'says Nell,sittin'up in the bed,an'gropin'for a quart bottle iv holy wather she used to hang by the back iv the bed,'don't come in,darlin' --there's holy wather here,'says she;'but tell me from where you are is there anything that's throublin'your poor sinful sowl?'says she.'An'tell me how many masses 'ill make you asy,an'by this crass,I'll buy you as many as you want,'says she.
'I don't know what the divil you mane,' says Jim.
'Go back,'says she,'go back to glory,for God's sake,'says she.
'Divil's cure to the bit iv me 'ill go back to glory,or anywhere else,'says he,'this blessed night;so open the door at onst' an'let me in,'says he.
'The Lord forbid,'says she.
'By jabers,you'd betther,'says he,'or it 'ill be the worse for you,'says he;an'
wid that he fell to wallopin'the door till he was fairly tired,an'Andy an'his wife crassin'themselves an'sayin'their prayers for the bare life all the time.
'Jim Soolivan,'says she,as soon as he was done,'go back,for God's sake,an' don't be freakenin'me an'your poor fatherless childhren,'says she.
'Why,you bosthoon,you,'says Jim,'won't you let your husband in,'says he,'to his own house?'says he.
'You WOR my husband,sure enough,' says she,'but it's well you know,Jim Soolivan,you're not my husband NOW,'says she.
'You're as dhrunk as can be consaved,says Jim.
'Go back,in God's name,pacibly to your grave,'says Nell.
'By my sowl,it's to my grave you'll sind me,sure enough,'says he,'you hard-hearted bain',for I'm jist aff wid the cowld,' says he.
'Jim Sulivan,'says she,'it's in your dacent coffin you should be,you unforthunate sperit,'says she;'what is it's annoyin'your sowl,in the wide world,at all?'says she;'hadn't you everything complate?'says she,'the oil,an'the wake,an'the berrin'?'says she.
'Och,by the hoky,'says Jim,'it's too long I'm makin'a fool iv mysilf,gostherin' wid you outside iv my own door,'says he,'for it's plain to be seen,'says he,'you don't know what your're sayin',an' no one ELSE knows what you mane,you unforthunate fool,'says he;'so,onst for all,open the door quietly,'says he,'or,by my sowkins,I'll not lave a splinther together,'says he.
Well,whin Nell an'Andy seen he was getting vexed,they beginned to bawl out their prayers,with the fright,as if the life was lavin'them;an'the more he bate the door,the louder they prayed,until at last Jim was fairly tired out.
'Bad luck to you,'says he;'for a rale divil av a woman,'says he.I'can't get any advantage av you,any way;but wait till I get hould iv you,that's all,'says he.An'he turned aff from the door,an'wint round to the cow-house,an'settled himself as well as he could,in the sthraw;an'he was tired enough wid the thravellin'he had in the day-time,an' a good dale bothered with what liquor he had taken;so he was purty sure of sleepin'wherever he thrun himself.
But,by my sowl,it wasn't the same way with the man an'the woman in the house--for divil a wink iv sleep,good or bad,could they get at all,wid the fright iv the sperit,as they supposed;an'with the first light they sint a little gossoon,as fast as he could wag,straight off,like a shot,to the priest,an'to desire him,for the love o' God,to come to them an the minute,an' to bring,if it was plasin'to his raverence,all the little things he had for sayin'mass,an'savin'sowls,an'banishin'sperits,an' freakenin'the divil,an'the likes iv that.
An'it wasn't long till his raverence kem down,sure enough,on the ould grey mare,wid the little mass-boy behind him,an'the prayer-books an'Bibles,an'all the other mystarious articles that was wantin',along wid him;an'as soon as he kem in,'God save all here,'says he.
'God save ye,kindly,your raverence,' says they.
'An'what's gone wrong wid ye?'says he;'ye must be very bad,'says he,' entirely,to disturb my devotions,'says he,'this way,jist at breakfast-time,'says he.
'By my sowkins,'says Nell,'it's bad enough we are,your raverence,'says she,'for it's poor Jim's sperit,'says she;'God rest his sowl,wherever it is,'says she,'that was wandherin'up an'down,opossite the door all night,'says she,'in the way it was no use at all,thryin'to get a wink iv sleep,'says she.
'It's to lay it,you want me,I suppose,' says the priest.
'If your raverence 'id do that same,it 'id be plasin'to us,'says Andy.
'It'll be rather expinsive,'says the priest.
'We'll not differ about the price,your raverence,'says Andy.
'Did the sperit stop long?'says the priest.
'Most part iv the night,'says Nell,'the Lord be merciful to us all!'says she.
'That'll make it more costly than I thought,'says he.'An'did it make much noise?'says he.
'By my sowl,it's it that did,'says Andy;'leatherin'the door wid sticks and stones,'says he,'antil I fairly thought every minute,'says he,'the ould boords id smash,an'the sperit id be in an top iv us--God bless us,'says he.
'Phiew!'says the priest;'it'll cost a power iv money.'
'Well,your raverence,'says Andy,'take whatever you like,'says he;'only make sure it won't annoy us any more,'says he.
'Oh!by my sowkins,'says the priest,'it'll be the quarest ghost in the siven parishes,'says he,'if it has the courage to come back,'says he,'afther what I'll do this mornin',plase God,'says he;'so we'll say twelve pounds;an'God knows it's chape enough,'says he,'considherin'all the sarcumstances,'says he.