"She's that much again it, that if I wor to go next or near the house she'd just pick mee eyes out! Maybe you'll put in a word for me, Miss?"
"I don't see why Sally should not please herself. She's old enough."
"Well, for that matter we are both of us pretty long in the tooth! But I'll have her before the priest in spite of the old wan yet, though she is trying to draw down a match with Darby Chute!"
"Oh, that would never do!" exclaimed Helen with involuntary emphasis.
"I'm entirely of your opinion, Miss," said Larry, turning towards her. "I see you're none the worse for that little tip off the car! An' you are looking just as beautiful as a harvest moon!"
"And how is Finnigan's mare?" she inquired, not to be outdone in politeness.
"Oh, faix!" scratching his head, "shure she nearly drowned herself and me about a month ago. Coming out of Terryscreen fair and aisy, we met a band of music all of a sudden on the bridge, and without the least provocation she just turned about and leapt over the parapet, car and all!"
"And did YOU go over, Larry?" asked Helen with benevolent solicitude.
"Troth, and I did not. I stayed on land. We had terrible work to get her out, though she swam like an otter, and there was no great harm done, barrin' to the shafts again; but the mails was soaking wet—just in a sort of pulp; and the postmaster was raging and spoke very bitter. The end of it was I had to get shut of the mare! A horse on the road is well enough; but when they show a taste for the water it's a different kind of driving is required. So I sold her to a canal boatman—and maybe she's aisy now. She'll be hard set to run away with the boat! Well, she was a fine traveller!" he concluded regretfully.
"And what have you now?"