“An' you see, Ned, the Bodagh is so much hated, that even some of thim that don't like Flanagan, won't scruple to join him in this.”
“An' if we were known to let the cat out o' the bag to the Bodagh, we might as well prepare our coffins at wanst.”
“Faith, sure enough—that's but gospel, Ned,” replied the Dandy; still it 'ud be the milliah murdher to let the double-faced villin carry off such a girl.”
“I'll tell you what you'll do, thin, Dandy,” rejoined Ned, “what if you'd walk down wid me as far as the Bodagh's.”
“For why? Sure they're in bed now, man alive.”
“I know that,” said M'Cormick; “but how—an—ever, if you come down wid me that far, I'll conthrive to get in somehow, widout wakenin' them.”
“The dickens you will! How, the sarra, man?”
“No matther, I will; an' you see,” he added, pulling out a flask of spirits, “I'm not goin' impty-handed.”
“Phew!” exclaimed Duffy, “is it there you are?—oh, that indeed! Faith I got a whisper of it some time ago, but it wint out o' my head. Biddy Nulty, faix—a nate clane girl she is, too.”
“But that's not the best of it, Dandy. Sure, blood alive, I can tell you a sacret—may dipind? Honor bright! The Bodagh's daughter, man, is to give her a portion, in regard to her bein' so thrue to Connor O'Donovan. Bad luck to the oath she'd swear aginst him if they'd made a queen of her, but outdone the counsellors and lawyers, an' all the whole bobbery o' them, whin they wanted her to turn king's evidence. Now, it's not but I'd do anything to serve the purty Bodagh's daughter widout it; but you see, Dandy, if white-liver takes her off, I may stand a bad chance for the portion.”