'Oh! God send we'll all be in glory yet,' says the wife, crassin' herself; 'but go to sleep, Thady, for this present.'
'I'll sleep with the brave yit,' says he.
'Indeed, an' a brave sleep will do you a power o' good, my darlin','says she.
'And it's I that will be the knight!' says he.
'All night, if you plaze, Thady,' says she.
'None o' your coaxin','says he. 'I'm detarmined on it, and I'll set off immediantly, and be a knight arriant.'
'A what?' says she.
'A knight arriant, woman.'
'Lord, be good to me, what's that?' says she.
'A knight arriant is a rale gintleman,' says he; 'going round the world for sport, with a swoord by his side, takin' whatever he plazes for himself; and that's a knight arriant,' says he.