“So then, Mrs. OʼGaghan, with the best intentions in the world, you marked the elder child with a rosette, as I saw on the following day”.
“Thrue for you as the Gospel. And what more wud you have me do”?
“Nothing. Only take a needle and thread to it; instead of crimping it into the cap”.
Poor Biddy started from where she stood, and pressed one hand to her heart. “Itʼs the divil himself”, she muttered. “as turns me inside out so. And sure that same is the reason he does be so black red”. Then aloud, with a final rally—
“And who say they iver see me take a needle and thread? And if I did, what odds to them”?
“No, that was the very thing you omitted to do, until it was too late. But when you sent to Mrs. Toaster for her large butter–scales, what was it you put on each side”?
“What was it? No lining at all. Fair play for the both of them, as I hope to be weighed in purgatory”.
Sir Cradock was looking on, all this while, with the deepest amazement and interest. He had not received any hint beforehand of this confirmative evidence. “And, pray, what was the reason that you wanted to weigh them at all? You know that it is considered unlucky among nurses to weigh infants”.
“Why else wud I weigh them, except to see which wur the heaviest”?