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Without another word then, the Devil filled with goold the biggest room in Willie’s house. “And now,” says he, “good-bye, and be ready for me in seven years and a day from now.” “I’ll be ready,” says Willie.
Willie had a gay and a rollickin’ time and no mistake, afther that, for the seven years and a day. He made the money spin, as it was never afore known to spin in Ireland. He come to be known all over the country as the greatest sporter and spender of the day. He kept race horses, and steeple-chase horses, carriages and coaches—and everything was thrapped out in solid goold. He built castles that had a window for every day of the year—and entertained Kings in them. And bards and chiefs were as plentiful about them as rats. The fame of the great rich blacksmith spread over the known wurrl’ of them days, and great distinguished tourists and genthry of all descriptions come flockin’ from all arts and parts to see him, and to receive his hospitality—bekase he kept open house for all comers, and sarvints to wait on them, and coaches and coach-horses to dhrive them.
But for all his wealth, Willie couldn’t stop Time from ru
It was like new life to Willie startin’ the next tarm. And he went at these seven years of fun and frolic, like a man at a day’s work. And if the seven years afore had been a merry seven, these seven were seven times as merry. His house never emptied, and day or night the fun and carousin’ never wanst ceased in it. There come more throops and bands, and Kings and Queens with all their body-sarvints than ever went to visit Solomon in all his glory. His name and fame was sounded in the utthermost ends of the earth; and in all the wurrl’ again there wasn’t so great a man as Willie.
But at long and at last, again, these seven years and a day passed, too. And on the very day when they were up, just as Willie, again, was sittin’ down to table in the middle of Kings and Queens, and great foreign Counts, the doore of the dinin’ hall opened and in steps no other than Willie’s frien’. “Good morra, Willie,” says he, with an ugly smile on his face as much as to say “I’m goin’ to get even with ye at last, boy-o.” “Good-morra, and good luck,” says Willie, not the laist thrifle mismoved, seemin’ly. “Willie,” says he, “I hope you’re ready to come with me?” “I am,” says Willie—“Butler,” says Willie, “bring forrid that large chair there behind you and set it here at my right hand for this gentleman, and bring him in a large plate of the best ye can find in the pot—he’s going to do us the honor of pickin’ a bone with us.” “Thanky, thanky,” says the Devil, says he, seatin’ himself, and tacklin’ the di
But lo, when all had finished their di
Willie’s pile of money was by no means as big as what it used to be, but there was an odious pile of it yet. And so for the next seven years, Willie run the same rigs he had done afore; only, if anything, he went it ten times faster and furiouser, and his house was the resort for ten times as many princes and people from the very corners of the earth itself. And the fun was ten times as big, and the aitin’ and dhrinkin’ ten times as great and grand. And the likes of it never had been seen afore nor never will be seen again.
But the best of things must some time or other come till an end. And so it seemed with Willie; for these years passed, too. And the day the devil was due, come; and on that day, just as afore, Willie, he was sittin’ down till the table to di
It was in the heat of summer, and the roads was dhry and dusty, and the sun burnin’ down on top of the two thravellers. After they’d been some hours walkin’ Willie complained he was mighty thirsty. “Well,” says the Devil, says he, the first i