Usquebaugh—­literally, “water of life.”

The fact is, that Father Deleery made himself quite at home at Ned’s without any reference to Nancy’s saving habits; the consequence was, that her welcome to him was extremely sincere—­“from the teeth out.”  Father Ned saw perfectly through her assumed heartiness of manner, but acted as if the contrary was the case; Nancy understood him also, and with an intention of making up by complaisance for their niggardliness in other respects, was a perfect honeycomb.  This state of cross-purposes, however, could not last long; neither did it.  Father Ned never paid, and Nancy never gave credit; so, at length, they came to an open rupture; she threatened to process him for what he owed her, and he, in return, threatened to remove the congregation from “The Forth” to Ballymagowan bridge, where he intended to set up his nephew in the “public line,” to the ruin of Nancy’s flourishing establishment.

“Father Ned,” said Nancy, “I’m a hardworking, honest woman, and I don’t see why my substance is to be wasted by your Reverence when you won’t pay for it.”

“And do you forget,” Father Ned would reply, “that it’s me that brings you your custom?  Don’t you know that if I remove my flock to Ballymagowan, you’ll soon sing to another tune? so lay that to your heart.”

“Troth, I know that whatever I get I’m obliged to pay for it; and I think every man should do the same, Father Ned.  You must get a hank of yarn from me, and a bushel or two of oats from Ned, and your riglar dues along with all; but, avourneen, it’s yourself that won’t pay a penny when you can help it.”

“Salvation to me, but you’d skin a flint!”

“Well, if I would, I pay my debts first.”

“You do?”

“Yes, troth, do I.”

“Why then that’s more than you’ll be able to do long, plase the fates.”

“If all my customers wor like your Reverence, it is.”

“I’ll tell you what it is, Nancy, I often threatened to take the congregation from ‘The Forth,’ and I’ll do it—­if I don’t, may I never sup sorrow!”

Big with such a threat, Father Ned retired.  The apprehensions of Nancy on this point, however, were more serious than she was willing to acknowledge.  This dispute took place a few days before the night in question.

Father Ned was a little man, with a red face, slender legs, and flat feet; he was usually cased in a pair of ribbed minister’s grey small-clothes, with leggings of the same material.  His coat, which was much too short, rather resembled a jerkin, and gave him altogether an appearance very much at variance with an idea of personal gravity or reverence.  Over this dress he wore in winter, a dark great-coat, with high collar, that buttoned across his face, showing only the point, of his red nose; so that, when riding or walking, his hat rested more upon the collar of his coat than upon his head.