“A better match for her like isn’t walking this earth,” says the wife.
“Hold your whisht, woman,” says he. “I’d sooner let the devil have her than see her join the world with Shan Alec.”
“What is on you at all to be speaking such foolishness?” asks herself.
“I’d have you to know,” says he, “that I’ll have a gentleman for my son-in-law and no common person at all.”
“It is the raving of prosperity is on you,” says she. “And that is the worst madness out.”
“Speak easy,” says he, “or maybe I’ll correct you with the pot stick.”
With that she allowed he be to be gone daft entirely, or he’d never have such an unseemly thought as to raise his hand to a woman.
“Hold your whisht,” he answers. “Surely ’tis both hand and foot I’ll be giving you unless you quit tongueing.”
Not a long afterwards a splendid gentleman came to the house, and he riding on a horse.
“I have heard tell,” says he to the farmer, “that you are seeking a suitable settlement for your daughter.”