“To be sure, Mrs Moan; an’ everyone knows they’re not to be put in comparishment wid a woman like you, that knows sich a power. But how does it happen, ma’am, that the Moriartys does be spakin’ but middlin’ of you?”
“Of me, avick?”
“Ay, faix; I’m tould they spread the mouth at you sometimes, espishily when the people does be talkin’ about all the quare things you can do.”
“Well, well, dear, let them have their laugh—they may laugh that win, you know. Still one doesn’t like to be provoked—no indeed.”
“Faix, an’ Mick Moriarty has a purty daughther, Mrs Moan, an’ a purty penny he can give her, by all accounts. The nerra one o’ myself but would be glad to put my comedher on her, if I knew how. I hope you find yourself aisey on your sate, ma’am?”
“I do, honey. Let them talk, Phil, let them talk; it may come their turn yet—only I didn’t expect it from them. You! but, avick, what chance would you have with Mick Moriarty’s daughther?”
“Ay, every chance an’ sartinty too, if some one that I know, and that every one that knows her, respects, would only give me a lift. There’s no use in comin’ about the bush, Mrs Moan—bedad it’s yourself I mane. You could do it. An’, whisper, betune you and me it would be only sarvin’ them right, in regard of the way they spake of you—sayin’, indeed, an’ galivantin’ to the world that you know no more than another woman, an’ that ould Pol Doolin of Ballymagowan knows oceans more than you do.”
This was perhaps as artful a plot as could be laid for engaging the assistance of Mrs Moan in Phil’s design upon Moriarty’s daughter. He knew perfectly well that she would not, unless strongly influenced, lend herself to any thing of the kind between two persons whose circumstances in life differed so widely as those of a respectable farmer’s daughter with a good portion, and a penniless labouring boy. With great adroitness, therefore, he contrived to excite her prejudices against them by the most successful arguments he could possibly use, namely, a contempt for her imputed knowledge, and praise of her rival. Still she was in the habit of acting coolly, and less from impulse than from a shrewd knowledge of the best way to sustain her own reputation, without undertaking too much.
“Well, honey, an’ so you wish me to assist you? Maybe I could do it, and maybe—But push an, dear, move him an; we’ll think of it, an’ spake more about it some other time. I must think of what’s afore me now—so move, move, acushla; push an.”
Much conversation of the same nature took place between them, in which each bore a somewhat characteristic part; for to say truth, Phil was as knowing a “boy” as you might wish to become acquainted with. In Rose, however, he had a woman of no ordinary shrewdness to encounter; and the consequence was, that each after a little more chat began to understand the other a little too well to render the topic of the Moriartys, to which Phil again reverted, so interesting as it had been. Rose soon saw that Phil was only a plasthey, or sweetener, and only “soothered” her for his own purposes; and Phil perceived that Rose understood his tactics too well to render any further tampering with her vanity either safe or successful.