word," says he; "for if you didn't say that word, the devil the bit o' your goose would ever fly agin."
When the king was as good as his word, Saint Kavin was pleased with him, and then it was that he made himself known to the king. "And," says he, "King O'Toole, you're a decent man, for I only came here to try you. You don't know me," says he, "because I'm disguised."
"Musha! then," says the king, "who are you?"
"I'm Saint Kavin," said the saint, blessing himself.
"Oh, queen of heaven!" says the king, making the sign of the cross between his eyes, and falling down on his knees before the saint; "is it the great Saint Kavin," says he, "that I've been discoursing all this time without knowing it," says he, "all as one as if he was a lump of a gossoon?—and so you're a saint?" says the king.
"I am," says Saint Kavin.
"By Jabers, I thought I was only talking to a dacent boy," says the king.
"Well, you know the difference now," says the saint. "I'm Saint Kavin," says he, "the greatest of all the saints."
And so the king had his goose as good as new, to divert him as long as he lived: and the saint supported him after he came into his property, as I told you, until the day of his death—and that was soon after; for the poor goose thought he was catching a trout one Friday; but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made—and instead of a trout, it was a thieving horse-eel; and instead of the goose killing a trout for the king's supper—by dad, the eel killed the king's goose—and small blame to him; but he didn't ate her, because he darn't ate what Saint Kavin had laid his blessed hands on.
