“An' we will, too,” said the father; “here's Sheelah's health, neighbors! The best poor man's wife that ever threwn a gown over her shouldhers.”
This was drank with all the honors, and the negotiation proceeded.
“Now,” said Appleton, “what's to be done? Paddy, say what you'll do for the girl.”
“Money's all talk,” said Donovan; “I'll give the girl the two-year ould heifer—an' that's worth double what his father has promised Phelim; I'll give her a stone o' flax, a dacent suit o' clo'es, my blessin'—an' there's her fortune.”
“Has she neither bed nor beddin'?” inquired Larry.
“Why, don't you say that Phelim's to have his own bed?” observed Donovan. “Sure one bed 'ill be plinty for them.”
“I don't care a damn about fortune,” said Phelim, for the first time taking a part in the bargain—“so long as I get the darlin' herself. But I think there 'ud be no harm in havin' a spare pair o' blankets—an', for that matther, a bedstead, too—in case a friend came to see a body.”
“I don't much mind givin' you a brother to the bedstead you have, Phelim,” replied Donovan, winking at the company, for he was perfectly aware of the nature of Phelim's bedstead.
“I'll tell you what you must do,” said Larry, “otherwise I'll not stand it. Give the colleen a chaff bed, blankets an' all other parts complate, along wid that slip of a pig. If you don't do this, Paddy Donovan, why we'll finish the whiskey an' part friends—but it's no match.”
“I'll never do it, Larry. The bed an' beddin' I'll give; but the pig I'll by no manner o' manes part wid.”