"Oh vewy" said Furlong, "but this appea's to me so wema'kably stwange an abbewation."
"Oh," returned Fanny, with quickness, "I thuppose people go mad on their ruling pathion, and the ruling pathion of the Irish, you know, is love."
The conversation all this time was going on in other quarters, and Furlong heard Mr. Bermingham talking of his having preached last Sunday in his new church.
"Suwely," said he to Fanny, "they would not pe'mit an insane gle'gyman to pweach?"
"Oh," said Fanny, almost suffocating with laughter, "he only thinkth he's a clergyman."
"How vewy dwoll you are!" said Furlong.
"Now you're only quithing me," said Fanny, looking with affected innocence in the face of the unfortunate young gentleman she had been quizzing most unmercifully the whole day.
"Oh, Miste' O'Gwady," said Furlong, "we saw them going to dwown a man to-day."
"Indeed!" said the Squire, reddening, as he saw Mr. Bermingham stare at his being called O'Grady; so, to cover the blot, and stop Furlong, he asked him to take wine.
"Do they often dwown people here?" continued Furlong, after he had bowed.