Phelim looked at her in solemn silence, and then replied—“Let us trust in God that you may be enabled to overcome the weakness. Pray to Him to avoid all folly, an' above everything, to give you a dacent stock of discration, for it's a mighty fine thing for a woman of your yea—hem—a mighty fine thing it is, indeed, for a sasoned woman, as you say you are.”
“When will the weddin' take place, Phelim?”
“The what?” said Phelim, opening his brisk eye with a fresh stare of dismay.
“Why, the weddin', acushla. When will it take place? I think the Monday afther the last call 'ud be the best time. We wouldn't lose a day thin. Throth, I long to hear my last call over, Phelim, jewel.”
Phelim gave her another look.
“The last call! Thin, by the vestment, you don't long half as much for your last call as I do.”
“Arrah, Phoilim, did you take the—the—what you wor wantin' awhile agone? Throth, myself disremimbers.”
“Ay, around dozen o' them. How can you forget it?”
The idiot in the corner here gave a loud snore, but composed himself to sleep, as if insensible to all that passed.
“Throth, an' I do forget it. Now, Phelim, you'll not go till you take a cup o' tay wid myself. Throth, I do forget it, Phelim darlin', jewel.”