"'She spakes like a French spy, sure enough,' says Tom; 'and she was missin', I remember, all last Spy-Wednesday.'

"'That's suspicious,' says the squire--'but conviction might be difficult; and I have a fresh idea,' says Botherum.

"''Faith, it won't keep fresh long, this hot weather,' says Tom; 'so your honour had betther make use of it at wanst.'

"'Right,' says Botherum,--'we'll make her subject to the game laws; we'll hunt her,' says he.

"'Ow!--elegant!' says Tom;--'we'll have a brave run out of her.'

"'Meet me at the cross roads,' says the Squire, 'in the morning, and I'll have the hounds ready.'

"'Well, off Tom went home; and he was racking his brain what excuse he could make to the cat for not bringing the shoes; and at last he hit one off, just as he saw her cantering up to him, half-a-mile before he got home.

"'Where's the shoes, Tom?' says she.

"'I have not got them to-day, ma'am,' says he.

"'Is that the way you keep your promise, Tom?' says she;--'I'll tell you what it is, Tom--I'll tare the eyes out o' the childre' if you don't get me shoes.'

"'Whisht! whisht!' says Tom, frightened out of his life for his children's eyes. 'Don't be in a pa.s.sion, p.u.s.s.y. The shoemaker said he had not a shoe in his shop, nor a last that would make one to fit you; and he says, I must bring you into the town for him to take your measure.'

"'And when am I to go?' says the cat, looking savage.

"'To-morrow,' says Tom.

"'It's well you said that, Tom,' said the cat, 'or the devil an eye I'd leave in your family this night'--and off she hopped.

"Tom thrimbled at the wicked look she gave.

"'Remember!' says she, over the hedge, with a bitter caterwaul.

"'Never fear,' says Tom. Well, sure enough, the next mornin' there was the cat at c.o.c.k-crow, licking herself as nate as a new pin, to go into the town, and out came Tom with a bag undher his arm, and the cat afther him.

"'Now git into this, and I'll carry you into the town,' says Tom, opening the bag.

"'Sure I can walk with you,' says the cat.

"'Oh, that wouldn't do,' says Tom; 'the people in the town is curious and slandherous people, and sure it would rise ugly remarks if I was seen with a cat afther me:--a dog is a man's companion by nature, but cats does not stand to rayson.'

"Well, the cat, seeing there was no use in argument, got into the bag, and off Tom set to the cross roads with the bag over his shoulder, and he came up, _quite innocent-like_, to the corner, where the Squire, and his huntsman, and the hounds, and a pack o' people were waitin'. Out came the Squire on a sudden, just as if it was all by accident.

"'G.o.d save you, Tom,' says he.

"'G.o.d save you kindly, sir,' says Tom.

"'What's that bag you have at your back?' says the Squire.

"'Oh, nothin' at all, sir,' says Tom--makin' a face all the time, as much as to say, I have her safe.

"'Oh, there's something in that bag, I think,' says the Squire; 'and you must let me see it.'

"'If you bethray me, Tom Connor,' says the cat in a low voice, 'by this and that I'll never spake to you again!'

"'Pon my honour, sir,' said Tom, with a wink and a twitch of his thumb towards the bag, 'I haven't anything in it.'

"'I have been missing my praties of late,' says the Squire; 'and I'd just like to examine that bag,' says he.

"'Is it doubting my charackther you'd be, sir?' says Tom, pretending to be in a pa.s.sion.

"'Tom, your sowl!' says the voice in the sack, '_if you let the cat out of the bag_, I'll murther you.'

"'An honest man would make no objection to be sarched,' said the Squire; 'and I insist on it,' says he, laying hold o' the bag, and Tom purtending to fight all the time; but, my jewel! before two minutes, they shook the cat out o' the bag, sure enough, and off she went with her tail as big as a sweeping brush, and the Squire, with a thundering view halloo after her, clapt the dogs at her heels, and away they went for the bare life. Never was there seen such running as that day--the cat made for a shaking bog, the loneliest place in the whole country, and there the riders were all thrown out, barrin' the huntsman, who had a web-footed horse on purpose for soft places; and the priest, whose horse could go anywhere by reason of the priest's blessing; and, sure enough, the huntsman and his riverence stuck to the hunt like wax; and just as the cat got on the border of the bog, they saw her give a twist as the foremost dog closed with her, for he gave her a nip in the flank. Still she went on, however, and headed them well, towards an old mud cabin in the middle of the bog, and there they saw her jump in at the window, and up came the dogs the next minit, and gathered round the house with the most horrid howling ever was heard. The huntsman alighted, and went into the house to turn the cat out again, when what should he see but an old hag lying in bed in the corner?

"'Did you see a cat come in here?' says he.

"'Oh, no--o--o--o!' squealed the old hag, in a trembling voice; 'there's no cat here,' says she.

"'Yelp, yelp, yelp!' went the dogs outside.

"'Oh, keep the dogs out o' this,' says the old hag--'oh--o--o--o!' and the huntsman saw her eyes glare under the blanket, just like a cat's.

"'Hillo!' says the huntsman, pulling down the blanket--and what should he see but the old hag's flank all in a gore of blood.

"'Ow, ow! you old divil--is it you? you ould cat!' says he, opening the door.

"In rushed the dogs--up jumped the old hag, and changing into a cat before their eyes, out she darted through the window again, and made another run for it; but she couldn't escape, and the dogs gobbled her while you could say 'Jack Robinson.' But the most remarkable part of this extraordinary story, gentlemen, is, that the pack was ruined from that day out; for after having eaten the enchanted cat, _the devil a thing they would ever hunt afterwards but mice._"

CHAPTER XXIV

Murphy's story was received with acclamation by all but the little man.

"That is all a pack of nonsense," said he.

"Well, you're welcome to it, sir," said Murphy, "and if I had greater nonsense you should have it; but seriously, sir, I again must beg you to remember that the country all around here abounds in enchantment; scarcely a night pa.s.ses without some fairy frolic; but, however you may doubt the wonderful fact of the cat speaking, I wonder you are not impressed with the points of moral in which the story abounds--"

"Fiddlestick!" said the miniature snarler.

"First, the little touch about the corn monopoly [1]--then maternal vanity chastised by the loss of the child's toe--then Tom's familiarity with his cat, showing the danger arising from a man making too free with his female domestics--the historical point about the penal laws--the fatal results of letting the cat out o' the bag, with the curious final fact in natural history."

[1][Footnote: Handy Andy was written when the "vexed question" of the "Corn Laws" was the all-absorbing subject of discussion.]

"It's all nonsense," said the little man, "and I am ashamed of myself for being such a fool as to sit--alistening to such stuff instead of going to bed, after the fatigue of my journey and the necessity of rising early to-morrow, to be in good time at the polling."

"Oh! then you're going to the election, sir?" said Murphy.