"You'll have my blessin', sir; and proud I'll be—and proud the girl ought to be—that I'll say. And suppose, now, you'd come over on Sunday, and take share of a plain man's dinner, and take your pick o' the girls—there's a fine bull goose that Nance towld me she'd have ready afther last mass; for Father Ulick said he'd come and dine with us."
"I can't, Mat; I must be in the canal boat on Sunday; but I'll go and breakfast with you to-morrow, on my way to Bill Mooney's, who has a fine lot of pigs to sell—remarkable fine pigs."
"Well, we'll expect you to breakfast, sir."
"Mat, there must be no nonsense about the wedding."
"As you plase, sir."
"Just marry her off, and take her home. Short reckonings make long friends."
"Thrue for you, sir."
"Nothing to give with the girl, you say?"
"My blessin' only, sir."
"Well, you must throw in that butther, Mat, and take the farthin' off."