"The sorra's own fun they had, an' no wondher; but judge of what they felt when all at once they saw ould Jack Rafferty himself bouncin' in among them, an' footin' it away like the best of them. Bedad, no play could come up to it, an' nothin' could be heard but laughin', shouts of encouragement, an' clappin' of hands like mad. Now, the minute Jack Rafferty left the chair, where he had been carvin' the pudden, ould Harry Connolly come over and claps himself down in his place, in ordher to sent it round, of coorse; an' he was scarcely sated when who should make his appearance but Barney Hartigan, the piper. Barney, by the way, had been sent for early in the day, but bein' from home when the message for him went, he couldn't come any sooner.
"'Begorra,' says Barney, 'you're airly at the work gintlemen! But what does this mane? But divle may care, yez shan't want the music, while there's a blast in the pipes, anyhow!' So sayin' he gave them _Jig Polthogue_, and afther that, _Kiss My Lady_, in his best style.
"In the manetime the fun went on thick and threefold, for it must be remembered that Harry, the ould knave, was at the pudden; an' maybe, he didn't sarve it about in double-quick time, too! The first he helped was the bride, and before you could say chopstick she was at it hard and fast, before the Methodist praycher, who gave a jolly spring before her that threw them into convulsions. Harry liked this, and made up his mind soon to find partners for the rest; so he accordianly sent the pudden about like lightnin'; an', to make a long story short, barrin' the piper an' himself, there wasn't a pair of heels in the house but was as busy at the dancin' as if their lives depended on it.
"'Barney,' says Harry, 'jist taste a morsel o' this pudden; divle the sich a bully of a pudden ever you ett. Here, your sowl! thry a snig of it--it's beautiful!'
"'To be sure I will,' says Barney. 'I'm not the boy to refuse a good thing. But, Harry, be quick, for you know my hands is engaged, an' it would be a thousand pities not to keep them in music, an' they so well inclined. Thank you, Harry. Begad, that is a fine pudden. But, blood an' turnips! what's this for?'
"The word was scarcely out of his mouth when he bounced up, pipes an' all, and dashed into the middle of the party. 'Hurroo! your sowls, let us make a night of it! The Ballyboulteen boys for ever! Go it, your reverence!--turn your partner--heel an' toe, ministher. Good! Well done, again! Whish! Hurroo! Here's for Ballyboulteen, an' the sky over it!'