“Well, but you know I'm safe, Ellish?”
“I know you are, avourneen, as the bank itself; an' should have what you want wid a heart an' a half, only for the promise I made an my two knees last night, aginst givin' credit to man or woman. Why the dickens didn't you come yistherday?”
“Didn't I tell you, woman alive, that it was by accident, an' that I wished to sarve the house, that we came at all. Come, come, Ellish; don't disgrace me afore my sisther's bachelor an' the sthrange boys that's to the fore. By this staff in my hand, I wouldn't for the best cow in our byre be put to the blush afore thim; an' besides, there's a cleeveen (* a kind of indirect relationship) atween your family an' ours.”
“Condy, avourneen, say no more: if you were fed from the same breast wid me, I couldn't, nor wouldn't break my promise. I wouldn't have the sin of it an me for the wealth o' the three kingdoms.”
“Beclad, you're a quare woman; an' only that my regard for you is great entirely, we would be two, Ellish; but I know you're dacent still.”
He then left her and joined his friends in the little room that was appropriated for drinking, where, with a great deal of mirth, he related the failure of the plan they had formed for outwitting Peter and Ellish.
“Boys,” said he, “she's too many for us! St. Pettier himself wouldn't make a hand of her. Faix, she's a cute one. I palavered her at the rate of a hunt, an' she ped me back in my own coin, with dacent intherest—but no whiskey!—Now to take a rise out o' Pettier. Jist sit where ye are, till I come back.”
He left them enjoying the intended “spree,” and went back to Ellish.
“Well, I'm sure, Ellish, if any one had tuck their book oath that you'd refuse my father's son such a thrifle, I wouldn't believe them. It's not wid Pettier's knowledge you do it, I'll be bound. But bad as you thrated us, sure we must see how the poor fellow is, at an rate.”
As he spoke, and before Ellish had time to prevent him, he pressed into the room where Peter lay.