“Very, sir,” said the elder female. “Won’t you please to sit down?” and reaching back into the tent, she pulled out a stool which she placed near me.
I sat down on the stool. “You are not from these parts?” said I, addressing myself to the man.
“We are not, your haner,” said the man; “we are from Ireland.”
“And this lady,” said I, motioning with my head to the elder female, “is, I suppose, your wife.”
“She is, your haner, and the children which your haner sees are my children.”
“And who is this young lady?” said I, motioning to the uncouth-looking girl.
“The young lady, as your haner is pleased to call her, is a daughter of a sister of mine who is now dead, along with her husband. We have her with us, your haner, because if we did not she would be alone in the world.”
“And what trade or profession do you follow?” said I.
“We do a bit in the tinkering line, your haner.”
“Do you find tinkering a very profitable profession?” said I.