“‘Why not?’
“‘Seein they’re as well wid me as you.
“‘Give me my half then—that’s your’—
“‘Aisy wid you; who’s had the trouble and the chance of breaking his good-looking neck but me, Mr. Tim Sheeney.’
“‘Devil a care I care; I’ll have four, or I’ll know why.’
“‘That you’ll soon do: I won’t give ’em you.’
“‘Aint I holding the wood?’
“‘By coorse you are; but aint I sitting outside upon it, and by the same token unseating my best breeches.’
“‘I bid you take care; give me four.’
“‘Ha, ha! what a buck your granny was, Mistet Tim Sheeney; it’s three you’ll have, or none.’