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 runnin’. And at long and at last the seven years and a day’s sparin’s was up, an’ as Willie was wan day sittin’ down to a grand dinner entirely among Kings and Counts an’ many l’arned people, and people of high degree, the door of the great dinin’ hall opened, and a tall gentleman walked in. Willie looked up and at the first glint he remembered him. “Good morra, Willie,” says the stranger. “I suppose you know me, and are ready for me.” “Good-morra and good luck,” says Willie, not a thrifle mismoved—“Yis, I know you, and I’m ready for ye—as soon as I get through with dinner (it would be bad manners to laive me guests at table) an’ make a set of goold shoes that I’ve promised the king of Prooshia there below for his horse—let me inthroduce you to the King.—King,” says Willie to the King, “this is”—“A frien’,” says the Devil. “—A frien’,” says Willie. An’ the King an’ the Devil bowed, the Devil remarkin’ he hoped for the pleasure of a further acquaintance with him some day. He told Willie not to hurry, an’ took his place at the table, and a right hearty dinner, and then went with Willie to the forge, to see him turn out the goold shoes. “Here,” says Willie, says he, when he was baitin’ these out on the anvil, “make yerself useful, and help me through till I be off with ye”—handin’ him a sledge. The Devil took hold of the sledge with both hands and begun baitin’; but the sarra wan of him could let it go when he wanted to, for the sledge stuck to his hands like grim daith. “Come,” says Willie, says he, “old man, are ye ready for the road?” “Take away this sledge out of me hands,” says the Devil. “I don’t recall,” says Willie, “that there’s anything about that in my bargain. I’m afeard ye’ll have to stick to the sledge. Come along,” says he, “I’m ready.” “Och, ye scoundhril,” says the Devil, says he, and he dancin’ all over the place, with all Willie’s guests and friends standin’ by brakin’ their hearts laughin’ at him. “Take away this sledge,” says he, at long and at last, “and I’ll give ye another seven years’ and a day’s sparin’s.” So, at that Willie tuk from him the sledge, and the Devil went off in mighty anger.

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 dinner with a rale hearty appetite.

But lo, when all had finished their dinners, and Willie had sayed grace and stood up, the Devil he couldn’t rise at all, at all, for he was stuck as fast to the chair as if he had been waxed to it. “I’m ready for the road now, old man,” says Willie,—“are you?” “Oh, ye notorious villain,” says the Devil, “this is a purty mane thrick to play on a man in your own house, and at your own table, moreover. Relaise me from this chair,” says he. “I don’t remember that there was anything about that in my bargain,” says Willie. The Devil he wriggled and wriggled, and screwed and twisted himself, till all the gentlemen and ladies present went into stitches with the laughin’. And then, says he, “Relaise me out of this chair and I’ll give ye seven years and a day more.” “Done,” says Willie; and he relaised him, and let him go off, black in the countenance with anger and wrath.

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 dinner, along with all his great distinguished guests, when the doore of the dinin’ room opens, and in walks me brave Devil again. “Good morra, Willie,” says he, with the same old vicious smile. “Good morra and good luck,” says Willie, as little as ever mismoved, “won’t ye sit down and have a pick of dinner with us?” “Not me,” says the Devil. “You fooled me twicet, but ye’ll never have it to say that ye fooled me the third time. Come along,” says he. “That’s mighty curt,” says Willie. “It’s your desarts,” says the Devil. “Lay down the knife and fork now, and throt.” And Willie had there and then to say good-bye to his guests, an’ beg their pardon for this hasty departure, an’ walk off, hungry as he was, with the Devil.

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 inn we come till, I’ll let ye go in and have a dhrink.“ Says Willie, ”But I haven’t got a stiver on me, me purse is as emp’y as Micky Meehan’s male-chist.“ ”Neither have I a stiver,“ says the Devil. ”What’ll ye do?“ ”Why, as for that,“ says Willie, ”You’re such a nice obligin’ fella that I know ye’ll oblige me in this. All you’ve got to do is to turn yourself until a goold piece in my purse whilst I buy a thrait with ye.“ ”I’ll do that, with a heart and a half,“ says the Devil. And the first inn they come up till, the Devil thransformed himself intil a goold piece in Willie’s purse, and Willie closed the purse on him. Then straight back home with him Willie marched and into his forge. He laid the purse down on the anvil, and gettin’ two other sthrong lumps of fellas along with himself, he put sledges in their hands, and told them fire away and not spare themselves. So, as heavy and fast as the three of them could, they rained the blows down upon the purse on the anvil; and every blow come down, the Devil he yelled. And they struck away, and he yelled away; and he cried out and begged of Willie to let him out, and he’d give him more sparin’s. And when Willie got all the fun himself and his friends needed for wan day, out of him, Willie released him from the purse, on his promisin’ to give him seven years and a day more.