“Begor, it’s meself is not the only wan that does be lukin’ for the fairies!” and he grinned.
“Well, I must say, Andy, you seem to have a good supply on hand. Indeed, it seems to me that if there were any more fairies to be located on this hill it would have to be enlarged, for it’s pretty solid with them already, so far as I can gather.”
“Augh! there’s room for wan more! I’m tould there’s wan missin’ since ere yistherday.”
It was no good trying to beat Andy at this game, so I gave it up and sat silent. After a while he asked me:—
“Will I be dhrivin’ yer ’an’r over to Knockcalltecrore?”
“Why do you ask me?”
“I’m thinking it’s glad yer ’an’r will be to see Miss Norah.”
“Upon my soul, Andy, you are too bad. A joke is a joke, but there are limits to it; and I don’t let any man joke with me when I prefer not. If you want to talk of your Miss Norah, go and talk to Mr. Sutherland about her. He’s there every day and can make use of your aid! Why on earth do you single me out as your father confessor? You’re unfair to the girl, after all, for if I ever do see her I’m prepared to hate her.”
“Ah! yer ’an’r wouldn’t be that hard! What harrum has the poor crathur done that ye’d hate her—a thing no mortial man iver done yit?”
“Oh, go on! don’t bother me any more; I think it’s about time we were getting home. You go down to the sheebeen and rattle up that old corncrake of yours; I’ll come down presently and see how the work goes on.”