“I didn't promise that, and, at any rate, I'd not like to be a shopkeeper's wife.”
“Why not?”
“Why, he'd be puttin' me behind the counter, and you know I'd be too handsome for that; sure, there's Thogue Nugent that got the handsome wife from Dublin, and of a fair, or market-day, for one that goes in to buy anything, there goes ten in to look at her. Throth, I think he ought to put her in the windy at once, just to save trouble, and give the people room.”
“Ha, ha, ha! well, you're the dickens of a girl, sure enough; but come, avourneen, don't be makin' me laugh now, but tell me what answer I'm to give Mark.”
“Tell him to go to Dublin, like Thogue; he lives in the upper part of the town, and Thogue in the lower, and then there will be a beauty in each end of it.”
“Suppose I take it into my head to lose my temper, Peggy, maybe I'd make you spake then?”
“Well, will you give me a peck o' mail for widow Dolan?”
“No, divil a dust.”
“Sure I'll pay you—ha, ha, ha!”
“Sure you'll pay me! mavrone, but it's often you've said that afore, and divil a cross o' Your coin ever we seen yet; faith, it's you that's heavily in my debt, when I think of all ever you promised to pay me.”