“Yet, isn't it a wondher that the ould fellow is what he is, an' he so full o' money?”
“Troth, there's one thing myself wondhers at more than that.”
“What, Biddy? let us hear it.”
“Why, that you could be mane an' shabby! enough to come as a sarvint to ate the bread of the man that ruined yees!”
“Biddy,” replied Flanagan, “I'm glad! you've said it; but do you think that I have so bad a heart as too keep revinge in against an inimy? How could I go to my knees at night, if I—no, Biddy, we must be Christians. Well! let us drop that; so you tell me this mother an' son are kind to you.”
“As good-hearted a pair as ever lived.”
“Connor, of course, can't but be very kind to so good-looking a girl as you are, Biddy,” said Bartle, with a knowing smile.
“Very kind! good-looking! ay, indeed, I'm sure o' that, Bartle; behave! an' don't be gettin' an wid any o' your palavers. What 'ud make Connor be kind to the likes of me, that way?”
“I don't see why you oughtn't an' mightn't—you're as good as him, if it goes to that.”
“Oh, yis, indeed!”