I
The smithy in which Ned M\'Grane carried on his trade was close to the roadside, about a quarter of a mile from the head of the glen. There was no house very close to it on any side, though old Peggy Hogan\'s cottage was not so far away but that Ned could hear Peggy\'s shrill "Chuck, chuck, chuck," every evening at sundown, as she called her hens and chickens home to roost. The smithy was sheltered by the big beeches which overhung the road from Rowan\'s demesne, and when the fire was in full glow it was as fine a place for a seanchus among the "boys" as you\'d find in any corner of the broad land of Eireann; and well did the boys know that, because there was scarcely a night during the whole winter on which they didn\'t gather around the cheery fire in the forge, and discuss in breezy fashion and with a good deal of wit, almost every subject of interest under the sun, while they watched Ned M\'Grane at his work, and openly admired the strength of his shapely arms.

Ned was as famous for his wit as for his proficiency in all the mysteries of the trade, and he could tell stories, old and new, that would draw laughter from the loneliest heart that ever beat. He was a favourite[Pg 10] with old and young, and there wasn\'t a boy in the countryside who, sometime or other, didn\'t make a confidant of the genial blacksmith, and ask the advice which he was always willing to give. To help a man out of a scrape, to stand by a comrade in distress, to make glad a company with clean and ready wit, to resent an evil deed or to show whole-hearted appreciation of a good one, there wasn\'t in all Ireland a man who could out-match Ned M\'Grane, the laughing, jovial, generous blacksmith of Balnagore.

One night, just a week before Shrove (no matter whether \'twas last year or the year before or ten years ago) the smithy was, for a wonder, deserted by all its usual visitors, and the smith was alone with his work and his thoughts, which latter found expression in the snatches of song he sung in the intervals between placing the piece of iron upon which he was working in the fire and the taking out of it again, to be pounded on the anvil. He was just finishing a song, the last verse of which ran like this:
"No! no! across the thundering waves the answer rings full high! No! no! re-echoes many a heart beneath the Irish sky The land shall wake, her exiled sons across the sea shall sail Once more to set a coronet on queenly Grainne Mhaol."

and was giving the finishing touches to a new horse-shoe, when he heard a voice at the door say, "God bless the work," and on looking up his eyes met the[Pg 11] open, honest, handsome face of his cousin and dearest friend and comrade, Seumas Shanley of Drumberagh.

"An\' you, too, a mhic o," answered Ned M\'Grane, with a welcoming smile. "You\'re the very man I was thinkin\' about a few minutes ago, an\' I\'m glad you\'re by yourself. Any change in the plan of campaign? Is Old Crusty as determined as ever?"

"Worse than ever," said Seumas Shanley, as he picked up a piece of a broken match-box from the floor, set it blazing at the forge fire, and lighted his pipe with it. "Nannie says that he got into a tearin\' rage out an\' out last night when she refused again to marry Jack the Jobber, an\' he won\'t let her leave his sight for a minute. All she could do was to send me a note with old Kitty Malone to-day. Kitty was down in it, washin\', an\' she says Larry has his mind made up that Nannie must marry Flanagan before Shrove. I was over with Father Martin to-day."

"An\' what did he say?" asked Ned M\'Grane.

"He said \'twould be a cryin\' shame to have a sweet little girl like Nannie Boylan tied for life to a man like Jack Flanagan, who never comes home sober from a fair, an\' who has no thought for anythin\' only cattle, an\' money, an\' drink. Father Martin is dead against the match-makin\', you know, an\' he said he\'ll marry us if we go to him, runaway or no runaway, consent or no consent."

"Faith, then, by my grandfather\'s whiskers, Seumas Shanley, if that\'s the case, I\'ll see you married—yourself an\' Nannie—before Shrove yet, an\' that\'s only this day week!" said the blacksmith, as he flung the hammer he held in his hand into a corner,[Pg 12] and put the bolt on the forge door, so that no one might enter or interrupt their conversation. "I have the plan in my head all day," he added, "an\' if it doesn\'t work out all right the fault won\'t be Ned M\'Grane\'s."

"What\'s the plan?" asked Seumas, in a tone the eagerness of which he could not conceal, although he made an effort to suppress it. He knew that no man in Ireland could devise a plan or carry it through, better than Ned M\'Grane, and the hope that had been ebbing out of his heart as Shrove drew near and the danger of losing his cailin ban became every day more apparent, that hope grew as bright as the glow of the forge fire, and leapt into his kindly, dark eyes as he waited for the blacksmith to speak.

"Well, \'tis a simple plan enough, an\' there\'s no great mystery about it at all," said Ned, "an\' if you an\' Nannie do your share of the work right I give you my word that it\'ll be the most complete night-cap ever was put on Old Crusty or any match-makin\' miser like him. You know the way he goes nearly mad with that old front tooth of his when it begins to pain him for all his miserly ways an\' his trickeries, an\' you know as well, I suppose, the pishrogues the women do have about every blacksmith havin\' a charm for the cure of the toothache. Well, if Nannie can set Old Crusty\'s tooth tearin\' mad before Sunday—let her give him somethin\' real sweet to eat an\' it\'s off—I\'ll guarantee to take him out of the way for three hours, at any rate, an\' any Christian with the head set right on him could very easy be married to the girl of his heart in three hours—couldn\'t he?"

[Pg 13]

"He could, Ned—God bless you!" said Seumas, in a voice that was a wee bit husky, as he grasped the blacksmith\'s hand in a firm grip. "I was nearly in despair, an\' so was Nannie, an\' we couldn\'t think of a plan at all. We\'ll not forget it to you, never fear."

"O, it\'s not over yet," said Ned, as if to put a check on the other\'s impulsiveness. "You\'ll have to see Nannie some way or other, an\' tell her all you intend to do, an\' have her on her guard. She must give a sort of a promise to marry Flanagan, an\' then ask Old Crusty to leave her free until after Lent; an\' she must have some grievance or other against you. Do you understand? An\' there must be nothin\' done to make the old lad suspicious, an\' you must have everything ready, so that there\'ll be no fluster or delay. An\' above all, the tooth must be set ragin\' mad.

"Off you pop now, a mhic o, an\' more power to you. It\'ll be as good as a thousand pound to me to see Old Crusty\'s face when he finds out the whole thing. Come over Friday night an\' tell me how the game is goin\'. Good night, now, an\' God speed you."

"Good night, Ned. I\'ll not fail, please God, an\' I\'ll not forget it to you as long as I live."

And Seumas Shanley went, the glow of a great hope lighting all the way before him.
II.

When Ned M\'Grane lifted the latch of Larry Boylan\'s kitchen door and walked into the spacious kitchen itself on the following Sunday afternoon there[Pg 14] was a look of concern on his usually jovial face, and when Larry turned his gaze from the fire to greet the visitor, the look of concern on Ned\'s face deepened very considerably and perceptibly, and he seemed very much perturbed. Larry sat in a crouching attitude quite close to the big fire of blazing turf-sods, a red handkerchief covering his chin, his jaws, and his ears, and knotted on top of his head. He held his hand over his mouth, and now and then he groaned most miserably and lugubriously. An old woman—the same Kitty Malone mentioned by Seumas Shanley—was working about the kitchen; no one else was to be seen.

The blacksmith was a pretty frequent and always a welcome visitor at Larry Boylan\'s. He was Nannie Boylan\'s godfather, and old Larry as well claimed relationship with the M\'Grane family—usually when he wanted some work done at the forge. He was, therefore, glad to see Ned on the present occasion.

"I\'m sorry to see the enemy is at you again, Larry," said Ned, as he seated himself on the stool placed before the fire for him by Kitty. "I wondered when I didn\'t see you at Mass to-day, an\' I didn\'t know what was up until I met Kitty there, on the road, an\' she said it was the tooth. Is it bad? It must be a cold you got."

"Oh, it\'s a terror, Ned," groaned Larry, as a twinge of pain passed over his weazened face. "I never had it as bad before. I\'m nearly cracked with it, an\' the head is like to fly off me. Nannie that brought home a curran\' cake from the market yesterday, an\' sweet, white stuff on the top of it, an\' we ate[Pg 15] it with the tay, an\' about an hour after the old tooth gave one jump, an\' it\'s at me ever since. I never slept a wink all night with it. Nannie herself got the toothache about a couple of hours ago, an\' she\'s mortial bad with it, too. She had to go to bed a while ago."

"The poor thing," said Ned M\'Grane, sympathetically. "I\'m sorry in troth, for both of you, an\' glad that I came down. I might as well not be at home at all, because Seumas Shanley wanted me to go with him over to Knockbride after Mass. He was goin\' over to see some of his mother\'s people that came home from America. I think they\'re goin\' to have a spree or a flare-up of some kind over there to-night. I was near goin\' only I knew I\'d have to be up early in the mornin\' to shoe the Major\'s horses."

"The same bucko is no loss by goin\' to Knockbride or anywhere else," said Larry, with a frown; and then in a whisper, and forgetting the toothache for a moment, he said: "I\'m thinkin\' he\'s after some lassie in that direction. When he seen I wouldn\'t let Nannie throw over a well-to-do, comfortable man like Jack Flanagan for a scamp like him, I suppose he took after some other decent man\'s daughter. He was stravagin\' about the market yesterday with some strange girl, an\' wouldn\'t even look at us. I think my lassie," jerking his thumb towards the door of the little bedroom to which Nannie had retired, "had a wish for him up to that, but she saw then it wasn\'t her, but the place, he was after. And I\'m glad she got sense, because it isn\'t every day she could get married into a place like Jack Flanagan\'s—an\' it\'s[Pg 16] little fortune he wants either. We made the match for after Lent yesterday."

"Is that a fact?" said Ned. "Well, your mind ought to be easy now."

"So it is, Ned; so it is. When it came to the finish, Nannie didn\'t go against my wishes, an\' all she asked was that I\'d leave her free until after Lent; an\' sure there\'s no use in rushin\' it—is there, Ned?"

"Divil a use," said Ned.

At this juncture the tooth began to ache again worse than ever, and Larry squirmed in his seat with pain.

"I was tellin\' Mr. Boylan to-day," said old Kitty Malone to Ned, "that every blacksmith has a charm for the toothache, an\' I was wantin\' him to go up to you an\' see, but he said maybe you haven\'t it at all. Have you it, Mr. M\'Grane?"

"Well, I must be an amadán out an\' out not to think of it before now," said Ned. "To be sure I have it. Every blacksmith in the world has it, but it\'s no use to him outside his own forge. Troth it\'s many a one came to me with the toothache, an\' any o\' them that followed my advice hadn\'t the pain very long."

"Do you tell me so, Ned?" asked Larry, between his groans.

"Aye, indeed," said Ned. "But some o\' them is that foolish that they must run away to one o\' them lads that pulls teeth, an\' get themselves half murdered, an\' then pay dear for it. I saw on the paper where a man died after gettin\' a tooth pulled, an\' I saw where a great doctor said that if you let the pain o\' the toothache go on for five days one after the other, or get[Pg 17] the tooth pulled wrong, you\'re liable to drop dead at any minute."

"Lord bless an\' save us!" said old Kitty Malone, in tones of awe and fear.

Larry looked startled.

"An\' do you have the charm always, Ned?" he asked, with evident anxiety in his voice.

"Of course I do," answered Ned. "It\'s in my possession from the day I have my trade learned until the day I die, but I can\'t make use of it anywhere only in my own forge, an\' with no one next or nigh me but the person I\'m goin\' to cure."

"Does it hurt much, Ned?"

"That\'s the beauty of it entirely, Larry—it doesn\'t hurt at all. You might as well be asleep when the charm is working on you, for all the bother or pain it gives you."

"Couldn\'t you do it here, Ned?"

"Not if I was to get all Ireland, an\' England, an\' Scotland put together, an\' the Isle of Man threw on top of them. I couldn\'t do it anywhere only in my own forge above.

"Do you know what you\'ll do, Larry? Just keep that handkerchief on your head, an\' put your overcoat on you an\' come up to the forge with me, an\' I promise you that in a couple of hours\' time you\'ll be back here, safe an\' sound, an\' not as much pain or ache in that tooth as there is in the hearthstone there."

"Aye do, Mr. Boylan," chimed in Kitty. "It\'s a terrible thing to think of what\'d happen if it keeps at you for five days, an\' sure it\'s wearin\' you down already."

[Pg 18]

"An\' is it no harm to work the charm on a Sunday, Ned?" asked Larry, who was evidently giving way.

"Not the least bit o\' harm in the world," said Ned. "Sunday or Monday, night, noon or mornin\', it\'s all the same."

"Troth, then," said Larry, as he rose, "I think I\'ll go. Get me that coat, Kitty. If it sticks to Nannie until to-morrow she\'ll have to go, too."

"The bed is the best place for her at present," said Ned M\'Grane, as he passed out after Larry, "but don\'t let her stay too long in it, Kitty."

And Kitty\'s nod, in answer to the wink which accompanied this remark, was sufficient to prove that she fully understood.
III.

When they reached the forge it was just nightfall, but Ned lighted a lamp or lantern which hung on the wall, bolted the door, closed the window shutters, and then proceeded to light the fire. Larry watched him with the greatest interest, while he himself moaned and groaned and stamped about with the fierce pain of the big, shaking tooth.

It was one of the front teeth and very prominent. A tooth on each side of it had long since departed, and so it stood out in bold relief, grim and determined-looking. The pain was so constant and so annoying now that Larry would have suffered any torture to get rid of it.

"How do you work the charm, Ned?" he asked at[Pg 19] length, when there was no likelihood of the mystic rite being put into practice.

"Oh that\'s a secret that can\'t be given away to any man or mortal," said Ned, as he divested himself of his coat and proceeded, slowly and carefully, to roll up his shirt sleeves. "\'Twould be a big risk for me to let anyone know that; I might be on the look-out for some terrible punishment. In fact, I hardly know myself how it works. It takes place by some power beyond my knowledge entirely, Larry. I\'m only like the means of settin\' it in motion, an\' then it does all the rest itself in a strange an\' mysterious manner.

"Now, I want you, Larry, before I start at all, to give me your solemn word that you\'ll wait, real patient, until the charm is ready to work, an\' that you\'ll make no complaint either before or after the charm takes place. Some people get impatient an\' make some complaint or other, an\' then, instead of the charm workin\', the pain o\' the toothache gets worse than ever, an\' sometimes they die that very night. Do you promise, Larry?"

"I promise, Ned, that no matter how severe or how long the workin\' o\' the charm is I\'ll not make the least complaint, because I\'d suffer anythin\' to ease the pain o\' this infernal tooth. Sure it\'ll never annoy me again, Ned?"

"Never," said Ned M\'Grane, decisively, as he took from a small box a long, thin strand of flaxen thread, and pulled and jerked it in every conceivable fashion to test its strength. Then he stretched it three times along the anvil, and three times along the sledge hammer, and three times along a bar of iron, uttering[Pg 20] all the time in a weird, solemn tone, strange, inarticulate sounds, which silenced Larry\'s groans and made him feel awed and frightened.

"Now, Larry," said the blacksmith, when this ceremony was over, "you\'ll have to suffer a little pain while I get this magic band round the achin\' tooth. Open your mouth now."

Larry did as he was directed, and in a minute the smith deftly wound the flaxen thread round the tooth, and knotted it tightly.

"Put your hands on your knees now, like a good man, and bend down towards the anvil here," said Ned. "That\'s just right. Stay that way now for a while, an\' don\'t stir an\' don\'t look up. You\'ll be all right soon."

Whilst speaking he was tying the two ends of the flaxen thread tightly and securely to the horn of the anvil. When this was accomplished he put the bar of iron into the fire, gathered the glowing embers around it, and commenced to blow the bellows vigorously.

It was a comical picture altogether.

There was Larry, his hands resting on his knees, his head bent down until his nose was within a foot of the horn of the anvil, a stream of water running from his open mouth, his eyes fixed upon the floor, while he tried to groan cheerfully, in fear lest he might be taken as complaining.

Ned now and then blew the bellows, pulled out the bar of iron, looked at it, thrust it back again into the glowing fire, went about the forge uttering the same inarticulate sounds that had so awed Larry at first,[Pg 21] and treading very softly, perhaps because he did not wish to drive away the spirit of the charm. In one of his excursions he softly undid the bolt, opened the door, peered out into the night, listened, and smiled.

All this went on for a full hour at least, and then the blacksmith came over and stood beside the anvil, sledge in hand, while he commenced to blow the bellows more vigorously than ever.

At last he broke the silence by saying that he hoped Larry was not in very great pain, and assuring him that relief could not be very far off now.

Larry could only groan in reply, and then Ned went on to tell, with evident pride, of all the wonderful cures he had effected, and all the poor sufferers he had literally snatched from the jaws of death. And all Larry could do was groan and moan as cheerfully as possible, while he wondered if the time for his cure would ever come.

It came when he least expected it. The smith was in the middle of a wonderful story about a miraculous cure he had once been instrumental in effecting, when suddenly he whipped the bar of iron from the fire, placed it on the anvil, and brought down the sledge upon it with such force and vigour, three times in rapid succession, that showers of sparks—millions of them—flew in all directions through the forge!

Larry was taken completely by surprise. He gave one yell of terror as he suddenly jerked backwards, and the next moment he lay stretched at full length on the floor, the eyes almost starting from his head with fright, and a little stream of blood trickling over[Pg 22] his chin from his mouth. The tooth hung from the horn of the anvil, suspended by the strand of flaxen thread. The charm had been successful.

Ned M\'Grane laughed long and heartily, as he looked at the prostrate and terror-stricken Larry.

"Gorra, it worked the grandest ever I saw," he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes; "\'twas the neatest job I ever did, an\' you\'re a powerful brave man, Larry."

Larry could hardly speak he was so frightened.

"Is—is it out, Ned?" he said at last, scarcely knowing whether he ought to be vexed or pleased.

"Out!" cried Ned; "don\'t you see it, man? Didn\'t I tell you I\'d give you relief? Here, wash out your mouth with this sup o\' soft water. An\' I don\'t think your appearance is improved very much by you lyin\' there on the floor. Now, is it?"

Larry rose and rinsed his mouth, as he had been bidden.

"Do you know what, Ned," he cried, "you\'re the finest doctor in Ireland, an\' that\'s the greatest charm I ever heard of in my life. I dunno how you done it, but I must send up Nannie to you to-morrow."

At that moment a young lad thrust his head in at the door.

"All right—an hour ago," he cried, and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

"What did he say?" asked Larry, as he saw a look of the utmost pleasure come across Ned M\'Grane\'s face.

"He said," answered Ned, as he folded his arms and leaned his broad shoulder against the wall, "that[Pg 23] you\'ve got the best son-in-law in Ireland, an\' that Seumas Shanley has the purtiest an\' the sweetest little wife that ever stepped in shoe leather!"

"What do you mean, man; what do you mean?" cried Larry in an angry and excited tone, as he gripped the blacksmith by the arm. "Are you mad, Ned M\'Grane?"

"No, Larry, my decent man; I\'m not mad, an\' I only mean what I say, an\' that is that the best part o\' the charm that\'s after bein\' worked is that while you were gettin\' the pain taken out o\' your jaw here, your daughter and Seumas Shanley were gettin\' the pain taken out o\' their hearts by Father Martin above at the chapel—long life to them!

"The boys an\' girls o\' Drumberagh are dancin\' at their weddin\' for the last half-hour, an\' every tongue in the country is talkin\' o\' the Blacksmith\'s Charm."