“Indeed! Andy.” I felt he was getting on dangerous ground, and thought it would be as well to keep him to generalities if I could.
“Shure they do tell me so; that the girruls, whether fairies or weemen, is more fond iv lukin’ out fur leprachauns, or min if that’s their kind, than the clargy is iv killin’ the divil—an’ they’ve bin at him fur thousands iv years, an’ him not turned a hair.”
“Well! Andy, isn’t it only natural, too? If we look at the girls and make love to them, why shouldn’t they have a turn too, poor things, and make love to us? Now you would like to have a wife, I know; only that you’re too much afraid of any woman.”
“Thrue for ye! But shure an’ how could I go dhrivin’ about the counthry av I had a wife iv me own in wan place? It’s meself that’s welkim everywhere, jist because any wan iv the weemen might fear I’d turn the laugh on her whin I got her home; but a car-dhriver can no more shpake soft to only wan girrul nor he can dhrive his car in his own shanty.”
“Well! but Andy, what would you do if you were to get married?”
“Faix, surr, an’ the woman must settle that whin she comes. But, begor! it’s not for a poor man like me—nor for the likes iv me—that the fairies does be keepin’ their eyes out. I tell yer ’an’r that poor min isn’t iv much account anyhow! Shure poverty is the worst iv crimes; an’ there’s no hidin’ it like th’ others. Patches is saw a mighty far way off; and shure enough they’re more frightfuller nor even the polis!”
“By George! Andy,” said I, “I’m afraid you’re a cynic.”
“A cynic, sir; an’, faix, what sin am I up to now?”
“You say poverty is a crime.”
“Begor! but it’s worse! Most crimes is forgave afther a bit; an’ the law is done wid ye whin ye’re atin’ yer skilly. But there’s some people—aye! an’ lashins iv thim too—what’d rather see ye in a good shute iv coffin than in a bad shute iv clothes!”