“I don’t mind if you do, but you won’t be able to find the things.”
“I tell you what would be better. You let me attend to that fry on the fire, an’ you lay the breakfast. Yes, I’m a bit hungry, no doubt ov that, at all, at all.”
“You come from Ireland the farmer says.”
“That same I do, ma’am.”
“You must be glad to be in a decent, respectable country like England.”
“Is it me!” almost screamed Peggy. “Dacent, respectable! that’s all you know. Ma’am, if ye want to bring the water from me eyes an’ to torture me broken heart ye’ll spake like that ov Ould Ireland!”
“I don’t want to do that, of course, child.”
The meal was cooked to a turn, the farmer, his wife, and the upper farm-servants sat around the board. Peggy enjoyed herself vastly, and her spirits rose.
But when the meal had come to an end, the farmer’s wife said, “Now, I want a word or two all by myself with you.”
“Yes, ma’am, right you be!”