“Well then; are you going to marry her, or rather, is she going to marry you, or is she not?”
“Why, I don’t know. I’ll tell your lordship just how it is. You know when old Sim died, my lord?”
“Of course I do. Why, I was at Kelly’s Court at the time.”
“So you were, my lord; I was forgetting. But you went away again immediately, and didn’t hear how Barry tried to come round his sisther, when he heard how the will went; and how he tried to break the will and to chouse her out of the money.”
“Why, this is the very man you wouldn’t let me call a rogue, a minute or two ago!”
“Ah, my lord! that was just before sthrangers; besides, it’s no use calling one’s own people bad names. Not that he belongs to me yet, and may-be never will. But, between you and I, he is a rogue, and his father’s son every inch of him.”
“Well, Martin, I’ll remember. I’ll not abuse him when he’s your brother-in-law. But how did you get round the sister?—That’s the question.”
“Well, my lord, I’ll tell you. You know there was always a kind of frindship between Anty and the girls at home, and they set her up to going to old Moylan—he that receives the rents on young Barron’s property, away at Strype. Moylan’s uncle to Flaherty, that married mother’s sister. Well, she went to him—he’s a kind of office at Dunmore, my lord.”
“Oh, I know him and his office! He knows the value of a name at the back of a bit of paper, as well as any one.”
“May-be he does, my lord; but he’s an honest old fellow, is Moylan, and manages a little for mother.”