“Ay, Charley, think of that now; an' tell me, he sleeps in Ballynafail, as usual; eh, now?”
“He does of course.”
“An' Jemmy Branigan goes along wid him?”
“Are you foolish, Kody? Do you think he could live widout him?”
“Well, I b'lieve not. Throth, whenever the ould fellow goes in the next world, there'll be no keepin' Jemmy from him. Howandiver, to dhrop that. Isn't these poor times, Charley, an' isn't this a poor counthry to live in—or it would be nearer the truth to say starve in?”
“No, but it would be the truth itself,” replied the other. “What is there over the whole counthry but starvation and misery?”
“Any dhrames about America since, Charley? eh, now?”
“Maybe ay, and maybe no, Rody. Is it true that Tom Dalton threatens all kinds of vengeance on the Sullivans?”
“Ay, is it, an' the whole counthry says that he's as ready to knock one o' them on the head as ever the father before him was. They don't think the betther of the ould man for it; but what do you mane by 'maybe ay, an' maybe no,' Charley?”
“What do you mane by axin' me?”