ing an’ creepin’ on your weskit?” he said, purtendin’ to be all excited.
“Sorra thing on my weskit,” answered Darby, cool as ice, “or anywhere else that’ll make me take my two bright eyes off’n you—not for a second,” says he.
“Well! Well! Will you look at that, now?” laughed the cobbler. “Mark how quick an’ handy he took me up! Will you have a pinch of snuff, clever man?” he axed, houlding up the little box.
“Is it the same snuff you gave Barney McBride a while ago?” axed Darby, sarcastic. “Lave off your foolishness,” says our hayro, growin’ fierce, “and grant me at once the favours of the three wishes, or I’ll have you smoking like a herring in my own chimney before nightfall,” says he.
At that the Leprechaun, seeing that he but wasted time on so knowledgeable a man as Darby O’Gill, surrendhered, and granted the favours of the three wishes.
“What is it you ask?” says the cobbler, himself turning on a sudden very sour an’ sullen.
“First an’ foremost,” says Darby, “I want a home of my ansisthers, an’ it must be a castle like Castle Brophy, with pictures of my kith an’ kin on the wall,
