'By my sowkins,' says Nell, 'it's bad enough we are, your raverence,' says she, 'for it's poor Jim's sperit,' says she; 'God rest his sowl, wherever it is,' says she, 'that was wandherin' up an' down, opossite the door all night,' says she, 'in the way it was no use at all, thryin' to get a wink iv sleep,' says she.
'It's to lay it, you want me, I suppose,' says the priest.
'If your raverence 'id do that same, it 'id be plasin' to us,' says Andy.
'It'll be rather expinsive,' says the priest.
'We'll not differ about the price, your raverence,' says Andy.
'Did the sperit stop long?' says the priest.
'Most part iv the night,' says Nell, 'the Lord be merciful to us all!' says she.
'That'll make it more costly than I thought,' says he. 'An' did it make much noise?' says he.
'By my sowl, it's it that did,' says Andy; 'leatherin' the door wid sticks and stones,' says he, 'antil I fairly thought every minute,' says he, 'the ould boords id smash, an' the sperit id be in an top iv us—God bless us,' says he.
'Phiew!' says the priest; 'it'll cost a power iv money.'