"Faith, I never thought o' that," said Darby, with an air of vexation.
"Could you tell me, itself, wor they odd or even, avic?"
"Faix, an' I could not say for sartin."
"Ah, that's it!!" said the crone, shaking her head in token of disappointment. "How can I tell the maynin' o' your dhrame, if you don't know how it kem out exactly?"
"Well, granny, but don't you think the crows was likely for goold?"
"Yis,—if they flew heavy."
"Throth, then, an' now I remimber they did fly heavy, and I said to myself there would be rain soon, the crows was flyin' so heavy."
"I wish you didn't dhrame o' rain, Darby."
"Why, granny? What harm is it?"
"O, nothin', only it comes in a crass place there."