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“I’d let it out,” replied Emmeline.

“Spakin’ about lettin’ par’ts out of cages, I remimber me grandfather had an ould pig,” said Paddy (they were all talking seriously together like equals). “I was a spalpeen no bigger than the height of me knee, and I’d go to the sty door, and he’d come to the door, and grunt an’ blow wid his nose undher it; an’ I’d grunt back to vex him, an’ hammer wid me fist on it, an’ shout ‘Halloo there! halloo there!’ and ‘Halloo to you!’ he’d say, spakin’ the pigs’ language. ‘Let me out,’ he’d say, ‘and I’ll give yiz a silver shilling.’

“‘Pass it under the door,’ I’d answer him. Thin he’d stick the snout of him undher the door an’ I’d hit it a clip with a stick, and he’d yell murther Irish. An’ me mother’d come out an’ baste me, an’ well I desarved it.

“Well, wan day I opened the sty door, an’ out he boulted and away and beyant, over hill and hollo he goes till he gets to the edge of the cliff overlookin’ the say, and there he meets a billy-goat, and he and the billy-goat has a division of opinion.