"If Ay gat a voman," he announced, "Ay skall gat one dat ent no fule."
"Any woman ye get will be," Mrs. Foley retorted with a meaning which got past Gus entirely.
"Vell, Ay don't know," he returned. "Some vomans is gat soome sense ven dey gat old enough. Ay don't vant no good-lookin' young dancin' girl dat don't know how to cook. Ay gat me soome day a rench, and a gude strong voman like you, and settle down."
Faith smothered her mirth with difficulty. "There's a pointer for you, Angus!" she whispered.
"Mrs. Foley will murder him now," he returned.
"Ye have ut down fine," Mrs. Foley snorted, "an' all I hope is that ye get a woman that'll lay ye out wid a rowlin' pin in life, an' wid a cleaner shirt nor ye have on now, when yer time comes. An' ut's me that's lit candles, head an' feet, for foour men already. Though belike ut's no candles ye'll have to light yer way up or down. Phwat belief are ye, ye big Swede?"
Gus scratched his head and pondered.
"Ay vote democrat in Meenneesota," he replied, "but Ay tank Ay ban socialist now."
"Agh-r-r!" snarled Mrs. Foley. "I mean phwat religion are ye, or ain't ye?"
Gus scratched his head again.