The Luck of the Irish Page #2

if it's the last thing I do. "

And with that,

out through the door...

before I could

raise a hand to stop him.

By your leave, gentlemen.

Well, come on. Come on, man.

What's the rest of it?

Well, uh-Well, I stood

at the door, calling.

And then- then...

I heard the banshee.

It was the first time

I heard it, but...

I knew it was all over,

and so it was.

The next morning,

they found him by the Gentle Burn...

and he struck dead altogether,

the way that he ne-

The way that he never moved again.

Well, gentlemen, as I was saying...

drink is the curse

of the human race.

How are you, Norah?

Well, I think it's past me bedtime,

gentlemen, so I'll say good night, kids.

One and all.

- Taedy.

- I'm ready for you, whoever you are! Come on out!

- Mr. Fitzgerald.

- Oh, Mr. Fitz.

- You gave me a start, sir.

- What are you doing with that bottle of whiskey?

Shh!

Themselves have sharp ears...

and they might have heard us

taking their names.

You know, it's a good thing

to leave a little something on the doorstep.

Oh.

But I always thought

the traditional thing for leprechauns...

- was a glass of milk.

- Milk?

Good night, Mr. Fitzgerald.

Good night, Taedy.

Let me go, you bosthoon,

or I'll parch your bones with fever.

- No, you don't. I've got you.

- Take your hands off me!

Not until you've showed me

your pot of gold.

What would a poor, simple old man like me

be doing with a pot of gold?

None of that. I'm ready for your lies.

Of course you've got a pot of gold.

No right-minded leprechaun

would be caught without one.

Oh, who's been telling you

such stories?

- Ah, your friend Taedy.

- Taedy?

- He put you up to this trick, eh?

- Ah, the biggest liar in all County Clare.

That may be true, but we're gonna

play this game according to the rules.

Come on now.

Where's the gold? The gold.

Oh. Not so fast, my friend.

- Let me go, you omadhaun.

- Come on. The gold. Where is it?

- I'm telling you, I have no gold!

- Where is it?

- I mean business.

- Where is it, you say?

- Yes, where is it?

- Why don't you take a little look under the waterfall yonder?

Oh, no, you don't.

Oh, no, you don't.

Ah. I've been warned to your tricks.

Where is it?

I don't- I don't know.

- Where is it?

- I don't know.

Oh, isn't that the thornbush?

Right under your very nose.

That's right. It's always buried, isn't it?

Uh-huh. Huh? Dig.

- Eh?

- Come on. Come on. Dig.

Oh.

Come on. Hurry up, man.

'Tis a cruel, wicked thing

you're making me do.

Well, you certainly do it up brown.

Props and everything.

Well, I'll be.

They're real.

Real indeed.

They're a lifetime savings.

Several lifetimes,

as you reckon things.

They are real.

I don't know who you are or what

sort of a game you're trying to play.

- Did you steal these?

- I never stole anything in me life...

except what was rightly mine.

That's one thing we have in common.

Here. Take this back.

But I don't understand you, sir.

You didn't really think I'd steal

your savings, or whatever they are.

Here.

You wouldn't be playing tricks

on a poor old man, would you?

No. I'll leave

the tricks to you. Here.

Take it back.

Bury it again.

Go on. Bury it now.

You give it back to me?

You give it back?

Fitzgerald, I'll never

forget you for this.

You've earned my undying

- my undying gratitude.

Here. Take-Take this little bit of a

keepsake to remind you of our meeting.

- No, no. L-

- Yes, yes, yes. Take it. Take it.

Thank you.

No thanks are necessary. It is I that am

thanking you from the bottom of my heart.

All the luck in the world to you.

Mr. Stephen Fitzgerald...

you have a way of twisting things

in the most perplexing manner.

It is I that am saying

"all the luck in the world" to you.

So, sir, good-bye...

and good luck to you.

Oh.

You're up early, Mr. Fitzgerald.

Oh, good morning.

I couldn't sleep very well.

Oh, I hope it wasn't the bed.

No, no. I think I just

had one drink too many last night.

- Kept having dreams.

- Good ones, I hope.

Strange ones anyway.

Perhaps it was Taedy's wild stories.

Or it might have been the old man

who gave me the advice up by the waterfall.

What waterfall was that?

The one up the brook there.

The Gentle Burn it's called, isn't it?

But there's no waterfall

on the Gentle Burn.

Come on.

- What for, Mr. Fitzgerald?

- We're gonna find out once and for all...

if there's a waterfall up there.

Now listen.

I'm sure it was here.

Hey!

Who are you calling?

Well, he's a- a rather peculiar

friend of mine. He-

But you must know him.

He's about the, uh-

Uh-

Well, it's- it's easy

to imagine things here in the woods.

But I couldn't have imagined that waterfall.

I saw it, and I heard it.

But maybe it- maybe it is

further upstream.

Yes, that- that- that must be it.

I suppose I could have

forgotten about it.

Yes.

I used to come bird's-nesting

here when I was a little girl.

There's a grand view of the sea.

I wish that boat would come.

Is it so very important to you?

Oh, it's the chance

I've been waiting for.

Ever since the war, I've been kicking

around Europe writing freelance stuff...

mostly for Bill Clark.

Now I'm ready to settle down

to a real job.

- Oh, but you shouldn't give up your writing now.

- Oh, I don't intend to.

The only difference is that from now on

I'm going to be paid for it.

I'm sick and tired of beating my brains out

for nickels and dimes.

It'll come.

You mustn't fret, Mr. Fitzgerald.

My friends call me Fitz.

- Fitz?

- Mmm.

I'd never call you that.

It- It sounds like

a bottle of soda water.

Well, a few-

My mother called me Stephen.

Stephen.

Oh, I like that better.

Everyone calls me Norah.

Norah.

Oh, that's very nice.

That's always been a favorite of mine.

Norah.

If I ever had a daughter,

that's what I'd call her. Norah Fitzgerald.

Norah Fitzgerald.

You're not married, Stephen?

No, I'm too fond of

my freedom for that.

Oh, don't say that.

A man should marry.

It's the natural rule

and a good thing altogether.

What about you?

Doesn't that same rule apply to you?

And who would I be

marrying here in Ballynabun?

Michael the fishmonger?

Or Taedy perhaps?

Oh, look. It's a boat.

It's the Aranar, Sean's trawler.

Your wish has come true, Stephen.

If you start at once, he can have you

in Shannon in the morning.

What's wrong?

You ever seen anything like this?

Oh, sure.

It's a doubloon.

16th century Spanish, I think.

- How could I have gotten it?

- Very easily.

There have been many of them in Ireland

since the armada was wrecked here.

The farmers bring them in

from time to time.

That's a nice one.

We better be on our way.

Keep in touch with me, fella.

I'll let you know if I can salvage the car.

Fine. Look me up if you ever

get to New York.

Oh, not me. I'm the poor but honest type.

Well, good luck, Fitz.

Bye.

Good-bye, Norah.

Now that I'm going,

I half want to stay.

You mustn't be looking

backward, Stephen...

but forward to what

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