"Sure, sir, doesn't it depend upon what dhrives them to it?" replied Peggy. "Throuble's mighty dhrouthy, sir, intirely; it dhrys up a poor man's throat as if there was a fire in his mouth, and, indeed, me poor Dan's poorer nor the poorest this holy day."
"That's no rayson, ma'm," said the other, with mock sternness, although his frame was in a glow of joy at hearing how Peggy managed to find excuses for his favorite failing. "That's no rayson, ma'm; the more fool him for addin' flame to the fire."
"Thrue for you, sir, but then doesn't it dhrownd the blaze for the time?"
"I'll answer ye that, Mrs. Duff, if you please, allygorically; did ye ever see a few dhrops of sperrets flung into a blazin' fire? a murdherin' lot of dhrowndin' there is about it; bedad, the fire only burns with greater strength."
"Then, of coorse, your honor, it stands to good sense that it's foolish to take only a few dhrops," she replied, with a sly look at the Squire, that made the laugh bubble all over his ruddy face.
"One would a'most suppose that you loved this Dan of yours," said he.
"Love him, sir! do the spring flowers love the sun? does the young mother love her new-born babby?"
"Oh! murdher, murdher! listen to this," cried Dan; "an' me shut up inside of this prison of a carcass; it was a mortial sin to leave her, an' I'm sufferin' for it as I ought, an' it sarves me right." The thought made him savage, so turning to poor Peggy with a look of anger, he continued, fiercely:
"What brought you here, ma'm? may-be you'll condescind to inform me at oncet."
"Oh! sir, don't be angry wid him, but its outrageous intirely that he is; sure, he wants somethin' that I'm afeared to ax."