Damer: Picking up newses and tidings of me ye do be. It is short the delay was on you coming.
Delia: And I after travelling through the most of the day on the head of you being wounded and hurt, thinking you to be grieving to see one of your own! And I in dread of my life stealing past your wicked dog.
Damer: My joy he is, scaring you with his bark! If it wasn't for him you would have me clogged and tormented, coming in and bothering me every whole minute.
Delia: There is no person in Ireland only yourself but would have as much welcome for me to-day as on the first day ever they saw me!
Damer: What's that you are doing with my broom?
Delia: To do away with the spider's webs I did, where the shelves were looped with them and smothered. Look at all that came off of that pack of cards.
Damer: What call had you to do away with them, and they belonging to myself? Is it to bleed to death I should and I to get a tip of a billhook or a slasher? You and your vagaries to have left me bare, that I would be without means to quench the blood, and it to rise up from my veins and to scatter on every side!
Delia: Is it that you are without e'er a rag, and that ancient coat to be hanging on the wall?
Damer: The place swept to flitters! What is that man of yours doing and he handling my turf?
Ralph: It was herself thought to be serviceable to you, setting out the fuel that was full of dampness where it would get an air of the fire.