"O' coorse, I know ye have a lot o' knowledge, but it's the little FINE things we Irish have got to learn. An' they make life seem so much bigger an' grander by bein' considerate an' civil an' soft-spoken to each other. We've let the brutality of all the years that have gone before eat into us, and we have thrown off all the charm and formality of life, and in their place adopted a rough and crude manner to each other that does not come really from our hearts, but from the memory of our wrongs."
Unconsciously Peg had spoken as she had heard Jerry so often speak when he discussed the Irish. She had lowered her voice and concluded with quiet strength and dignity. The contrast to the beginning of the speech was electrical. O'Connell listened amazed.
"Did the same Jerry say that?"
"He did, father. An' much more. He knows Ireland well, an' loves it. Many of his best friends are Irish—an'—"
"Wait a minnit. Have I ever been 'rough an' crude' in me manner to you, Peg?"
"Never, father. But, faith, YOU ought to be a Lord yerself. There isn't one o' them in England looks any betther than you do. It's in their MANNER that they have the advantage of us."
"And where would I be gettin' the manner of a Lord, when me father died the poorest peasant in the village, an' me brought up from hand to mouth since I was a child?"
"I'm sorry I said anythin', father. I wasn't reproachin' ye."
"I know that, Peg."
"I'm so proud of ye that yer manner manes more to me than any man o' title in England."