“Very well, may be I do, and again may be I don't; there's times when the one's better than the other; but go an; may be I do grant it.”
“Now tell me where in this parish, ay, or in the next five parishes to it, you'd find sich a boy for a father or mother to be proud out of, as Connor, your own darlin' as you often cau him?”
“Divil a one, Honor; damnho to the one; I won't differ wid you in that.”
“You won't differ wid me! the divil thank you for that. You won't indeed! but could you, I say, if you wor willin'?”
“I tell you I could not.”
“Now there's sinse an' kindness in that. Very well, you say you're gatherin' up all the money you can for him.”
“For him—him,” exclaimed the unconscious miser, “why, what do you mane—for—well—ay—yes, yes, I did say for him; it's for him I'm keeping it—it is, I tell you.”
“Now, Fardorougha, you know he's ould enough to be settled in life on his own account, an' you heard last night the girl he can get, if you stand to him, as he ought to expect from a father that loves him.”
“Why, last night, thin, didn't I give my—”
“Whist, ahagur! hould your tongue awhile, and let me go on. Thruth's best—he dotes on that girl to such a degree, that if he doesn't get her, he'll never see another happy day while he's alive.”