“Well not of necessity, but I certainly prefer what we call a brunette.”
“A bru-net. What’s that now; I’ve heerd a wheen o’ quare things in me time, but I niver heerd a woman called that before.”
I tried to explain the term; he seemed to understand, but his only comment was:—
“Well, God is very good,” and then went on with his queries.
“How might she be dressed?” he looked very sly as he asked the question.
“Simply! The dress is not particular—that can easily be altered. For myself, just at present, I should like her in the dress they all wear here, some pretty kind of body and a red petticoat.”
“Thrue for ye!” said Andy. Then he went over the list ticking off the items on his fingers as he went along:—
“A long, dark girrul, like belly bakin, but not a naygur, some kind iv a net, an’ wid a rid petticoat, an’ a quare kind iv an eye! Is that the kind iv a girrul that yer ’an’r wants to set yer eyes on?”
“Well,” said I, “item by item, as you explain them, Andy, the description is correct; but I must say, that never in my life did I know a man to so knock the bottom out of romance as you have done in summing-up the lady’s charms.”
“Her charrums, is it? Be the powers! I only tuk what yer ’an’r tould me. An’ so that’s the girrul that id shute yer?”