"Who's with you in the carriage?"
"Mrs. Haney, bedad."
"Naw, it is not!"
"Sure thing!"
"She's too young and pretty—and Mart, ye're lame! And, howly saints, man, ye look old! I wouldn't have known ye but fer the mouth and the eyes of ye. Ye have the same old grin."
"The same to you."
"I get little chance to practise it these days."
"'Tis the same here."
"But how came ye hurt?"
"A felly with a grievance poured a load of buckshot into me side, and one of them lodged in me spine, so they say."