There be no troo Nites abownding in this sad and loansum country, for the Nites are an avarashus lot. Since the news wint abrord that I’m having me little bit of forchune in the bank, I’ve been pestered wid the dummed forchune hoonters till I begin to look wid soospischun on ivery dummed man that spakes to me at all.
Ah, its a sad thing to be ritch in these days, for the lads cum acoorting wid wan eye on yere pockit and the ither on yere face. Since museer infarmed me of the greedy hart of Mr. Mulvaney its never a sivil ward I’ve handed the lad since, and he pretinding to be beside himsilf wid disthress and begging me ivery day to go wid him to the praste.
“Mr. Mulvaney” ses I, “whin Delia O’Malley is reddy to marry she’ll be choosing a thrifty lad wid a forchune larger than her own. Do you tak me for a nigger?” arsks I. “Ivery dummed one of those unforchunt crachures do be washing after marruge, handing over there hardairned wages to the cauld-harted goomps theyve been loonyticks enuff to marry. Larry Mulvaney” ses I, “Its a smart lad ye are, but Delia O’Malley sees throo yere thricks.”
“Delia, me darlint” ses he, wid such airnestness I’m almost like to belave him, “I wish” ses he, “ye’d tak yere munney frum the bank and drap it into the well” ses he. “Its you I want” ses he, “not yer auld munney.”
“Mr. Mulvaney” ses I cauldly, “Anny wan but an eediot” ses I “cud fish up a bit of munney put doon in a well.”
To musseer I likewise ixprissed mesilf consarning forchune hoonters in gineral and furringer in pertickler.
“Museer” ses I “I oonderstand its the custum in yure cuntry for the wimmen to guv over there bit of a forchune to there worthliss hoosbunds?”
“May but me share Mumsell Delia” ses he, “Is it not thin a grand custom? Think sharee” ses he, “Hoo shud be the custoadyun of the joynt wilth of such a onion if not the hed of the family. Why sharee” ses he, sharee being Frinch for mavorneen, “It is as it shud be.”
“Museer” ses I, “I may be auld-fashuned, but I shtand here riddy to state the following facks. I’m a hard warking girl and befure I’d see me hard airned savings parss into the hands of a good-fur-nothing disiloot Frinch husbund I’d throw it into purgatry and burn it oop insted. Good marning museer” ses I “Will you plase ixcuse me this avening.”