Den. Talk gently to your wife, Pat; she’s a woman.
Pat. Yer don’t mane it. Well, did yer imagine I didn’t know that? I have frequent opportunities av seeing women afore. There’s Widow Leary, for occasion.
Brid. Widdy Leary, she’s a fine crathur! A female skeleton, that paints herself up like a brick house, an’ hasn’t the shape av a barrel.
Pat. The Widow Leary recognizes a fine man when she sees him. She tould Father Riordan that I had the natest fut av any man for blocks around.
Brid. She did, did she?
Pat. I’m a givin’ it to ye wid directness, Bridget.
Brid. When I catch her I’ll kill her. Thrying to intice me lawful wedded husband away, the cork-legged ould scarecrow.
Pat. That will do. Ye ought to be elated to think that ye have sich a voluptuous-appearing husband, and ought to be continted to humor him, especially whin he’s got sich influence wid the bys. Do ye know the “Garvey Musketeers,” Denis?
Den. Yis.
Pat. Shure, they’ve axed me to turn out wid them to carry their target instead of a nagur. Perhaps yer would condescind to ax me for a place in the post office now?