"Ah, now! you'll be at me like the rest of 'em;" and she put her big face down over Feemy's. "Are the sheets done, Mary?"
"Ah now! Miss, you're worse than 'em all!" and Mary put her big hand with the big cotton glove, with the fingers widely extended, before her face to hide the virgin blush.
"What's that, Feemy?" said Father John; "what's that I heard?"
"Go asy, now, Father John, do;" and Mary gave the priest a playful push, which nearly put him into the fire; "for God's sake, Miss, don't be telling him, now; you won't, darlint?"
"What was it, Feemy? all's fair now, you know."
"Only just something Mary was to get ready for her husband, then, Father John—nothing particular. You'll never be married yourself, you know, so you needn't ask."
"Oh! part of the fortune, was it? Trust Denis, he'll look to that; is it the pigs, eh, Denis?"
"No, Father John, it jist a'nt the pigs," said Mary.
"Come, what is it?—out with it Denis."
"Sorrow a one of me knows what you're talking about," said Denis.