“None of your broad hints, Paddy,” said Nick. “If it's a collusion to Sally Flattery you mane, take care I don't make you ate your words.”
“Paddy,” exclaimed Phelim, “you oughtn't to be hurtin' their feelin's!”—(a friendly wink to Paddy.)
“If you mane me,” said the housekeeper, “by the crook on the fire, I'd lave you a mark.”
“I mane you for one, thin, since you provoke me,” replied Donovan.
“For one, is it?” said Nick; “an' who's the other, i' you plase?”
“Your brother's daughter,” he replied. “Do you think I'd even (* compare) my daughter to a thief?”
“Be gorra,” observed Phelim, “that's too provokin', an' what I wouldn't bear. Will ye keep the pace, I say, till I spake a word to Mrs Doran? Mrs. Doran, can I have a word or two wid you outside the house?”
“To be sure you can,” she replied; “I'd give you fair play, if the diouol was in you.”
Phelim, accordingly, brought her out, and thus accosted her,—
“Now, Mrs. Doran, you think I thrated you ondacent; but do you see that book?” said he, producing a book of ballads, on which he had sworn many a similar oath before? “Be the contints o' that book, as sure as you're beside me, it's you I intind to marry. These other two—the curse o' the crows upon them! I wish we could get them from about the place—is bothyrin' for love o' me, an' I surely did promise to get myself called to them. They wanted it to be a promise of marriage; but, says I, 'sure if we're called together it's the same, for whin it comes to that, all's right,'—an' so I tould both o' them, unknownst to one another. Arra, be me sowl, you'd make two like them, so you would; an' if you hadn't a penny, I'd marry you afore aither o' them to-morrow. Now, there's the whole sacret, an' don't be onaisy about it. Tell Father O'Hara how it is, whin you go home, an' that he must call the three o' you to me agin on next Sunday, and the Sunday afther, plase Goodness; jist that I may keep my promise to them. You know I couldn't have luck or grace if I marrid you wid the sin of two broken promises on me.”