A multitude of knots in the harness required attention and he carefully scrutinized every part of the car while the villagers kept up a volley of comments such as: "Shure it's a quare customer ye have this mornin', Andy my b'y.

The Lord betune ye an' harrum, Andy avick.

Shure it's no human bein' ye're drivin' away wid." And many other remarks made in Irish, no doubt, of the same encouraging character.
"Come, come," exclaimed Paul impatiently, "let us get off ?" Andy reluctantly clambered on the opposite seat and commenced driving slowly up the village street, followed by a loud huzza.

He seemed ill at ease and was loth to leave, driving so slowly that Paul had to urge him on.

Reaching the last house on the straggling village street, he stopped the car and turning to Paul said: "Oi want to get a light fur my pipe, sur." After a little time, during which Paul heard a vehement conversation going on inside, Andy re-appeared holding a coal of fire on the bowl of his clay pipe.