the settin’ of hins, or what was good to cure colic in childher, an’ things like that.
Any man so parsecuted with admiration an’ hayro-fication might aisily feel his chest swell out a bit, so it’s no wondher that Darby set himself up for a knowledgeable man.
He took to talkin’ slow an’ shuttin’ one eye whin he listened, and he walked with a knowledgeable twist to his chowlders. He grew monsthrously fond of fairs and public gatherings where people made much of him, and he lost every ounce of liking he ever had for hard worruk.
Things wint on with him in this way from bad to worse, and where it would have inded no man knows, if one unlucky morning he hadn’t rayfused to bring in a creel of turf his wife Bridget had axed him to fetch her. The unfortunate man said it was no work for the likes of him.
The last word was still on Darby’s lips whin he rayalised his mistake, an’ he’d have given the world to have the sayin’ back again.
For a minute you could have heard a pin dhrop. Bridget, instead of being in a hurry to begin at him, was crool dayliberate. She planted herself
