“‘It’s exactly she,’ says Mrs O’Rourke; ‘and do you know the reason?’
“‘Devil a bit,’ says I; ‘how should I?’
“‘Then it’s just that she may send her own child away, and give her milk to the English babby that’s coming; because the lady is too much of a lady to have a child hanging to her breast.’
“‘But suppose Mary Sullivan’s child ar’n’t born till afterwards, how then?’ says I. ‘Speak, Mrs O’Rourke, for you’re a sensible woman.’
“‘How then?’ says she. ‘Och! that’s all arranged; for Mary says that she’ll be in bed a week before the lady, so that’s all right, you’ll perceive, Father McGrath.’
“‘But don’t you perceive, sensible woman as you are, that a young woman, who is so much out of her reckoning as to have a child three months after her marriage, may make a little mistake in her lying-in arithmetic, Mrs O’Rourke?’
“‘Never fear, Father McGrath, Mary Sullivan will keep her word; and sooner than disappoint the lady, and lose her place, she’ll just tumble downstairs, and won’t that put her to bed fast enough?’
“‘Well, that’s what I call a faithful good servant that earns her wages,’ says I; ‘so now I’ll just take another glass, Mrs O’Rourke, and thank you too. Sure you’re the woman that knows everything, and a mighty pretty woman into the bargain.’
“‘Let me alone now, Father McGrath, and don’t be pinching me that way anyhow.’
“‘It was only a big flea that I perceived hopping on your gown, my darling, devil anything else.’