“And dad?” I inquired.
“Well, too!” says he.
“Thank the Lord for that!” says I. “And the little ones?”
“Happy and hearty!” says he.
“Thanks be to heaven again!” says I. “But what’s the matter wid you, at all, man alive?”
“The matter wid me?” said he. “What would be the matter wid me?” said he.
“Sorra a one of me knows!” replied I. “But you look as if you were at a wake widout whiskey!”
“You didn’t hear much about what happened at Ballyshevan in Amerikay?” says he.
“Faith, you are right! Not much more than I did about Foxey O’Gorman, wid his squint and red hair!” says I, laughing to think what a fool the skipper had made of me.
“There’s nothing to laugh at here!” says he. “There’s only two things that have been plintiful this sason!”