“Put round the bottle,” said Phelim, “we're gettin' dhry agin—sayin' nothin' is dhroothy work. Ould man, will you not bother us about fortune!”
“Come, Paddy Donnovan,” wid Devlin, “dang it, let out a little, considher he has ten guineas; and I give it as my downright maxim an opinion, that he's fairly entitled to the pig.”
“You're welcome to give your opinion, Antony, an' I'm welcome not to care a rotten sthraw about it. My daughter's wife enough for him, widout a gown to her back, if he had his ten guineas doubled.”
“An' my son,” said Larry, “is husband enough for a betther girl nor ever called you father—not makin' little, at the same time, of either you or her.”
“Paddy,” said Burn, “there's no use in spakin' that way. I agree wid Antony, that you ought to throw in the 'slip.'”
“Is it what I have to pay my next gale o' rint wid? No, no! If he won't marry her widout it, she'll get as good that will.”
“Saize the 'slip,” said Phelim, “the darlin' herself here is all the slip I want.”
“But I'm not so,” said Larry, “the 'slip' must go in, or it's a brake off. Phelim can get girls that has money enough to buy us all out o' root. Did you hear that, Paddy Donovan?”
“I hear it,” said Paddy, “but I'll b'lieve as much of it as I like.”
Phelim apprehended that as his father got warm with the liquor, he might, in vindicating the truth of his own assertion, divulge the affair of the old housekeeper.