"Mike, Mike!" called Mike Delaney's wife, Bridget, when he came home one evening. "Run over to the Macks' and see what's the matter with Pat. He's been running up and down the yard since breakfast, these two days; and the weather's bad for shirt sleeves. I'm thinking he's either lost his mind or training for a policeman."
"Whist, woman!" said Mike. "Let him be. He's got a wife of his own to worry him."
The next evening she met Mike at the door. "Sure," said she, "his brain's gone entirely, or it must be dancin' lessons he's after takin', for he's prancin' about the yard all this blessed day, he is."
So Mike thinks he would better look into the matter, and he goes to Pat. "Man, man!" he said. "Can't your wife jaw at you enough without all the neighbors taking a whack. What are you making a spectacle of your feelin's in the back yard for? Are you crazy?"
"Sure," replied Pat, "I'm only followin' directions. It's a bit sick I've been and the doctor left me some medicine.
He told me to take it two days runnin' and then skip a day."

