While our hayro sat thus in unaisy contimplation an’ smouldherin’ mortification an’ flurried hesitaytion a powdhered head was poked over his chowlder, and a soft, beguiling voice said, “Is there anything else you’d wish for?”
The foolish lad twisted in his chair, opened his mouth to spake, and gave a look at the bell; shame rushed to his cheeks, he picked up a bit of the biled beef on his fork, an’ to consale his turpitaytion gave the misfortunit answer:
“I’d wish for a pinch of salt, if you plaze,” says he.
’Twas no sooner said than came the crash. Oh, tunderation an’ murdheration, what a roaring crash it was! The lights winked out together at a breath an’ left a pitchy, throbbing darkness. Overhead and to the sides was a roaring, smashing, crunching noise, like the ocean’s madness when the winthry storm breaks agin the Kerry shore, an’ in that roar was mingled the tearing and the splitting of the walls and the falling of the chimneys. But through all this con-fusion could be heard the shrill, laughing woice of the Leprechaun. “The clever man med his fourth grand wish” it howled.
