“Well, an' what suppose? To be sure I am. Usen't you be followin' me like a calf afther the finger?—ha, ha, ha!—Will you do my biddin', Pether darlin'?”
Peter gave her a shrewd, significant wink, in contradiction to what he considered the degrading comparison she had just made.
“Ellish, you're beside the mark, you beauty; always put the saddle on the right horse, woman alive! Didn't you often an' I often swear to me, upon two green ribbons, acrass one another, that you liked a red head best, an' that the redder it was you liked it the betther?”
“An' it was thruth, too; an' sure, by the same a token, whore could I get one half so red as your own? Faix, I knew what I was about! I wouldn't give you yet for e'er a young man in the parish, if I was a widow to-morrow. Will you take the land?”
“So thin, afther all, if the head hadn't been an me, I wouldn't be a favorite wid you?—ha, ha, ha!”
“Get out wid you, and spake sinse. Throth, if you don't say aither ay or no, I'll give myself no more bother about it, There we are now wid some guineas together, an'—Faix, Pettier, you're vexin' me!”
“Do you want an answer?”
“Why, if it's plasin' to your honor, I'd have no objection.”
“Well, will you have my new big coat made agin Shraft?” (* Shrovetide)
“Ay, will I, in case you do what I say; but if you don't the sarra stitch of it 'll go to your back this twelvemonth, maybe, if you vex me. Now!”