“True enough, indeed,” replied the good woman, “an' that's true, too, tell the girls, Bryan, and that they must come.”
“Not I,” said the other, laughing; “if the girls here—wishes them to come, let them go up and ask them.”
“So we will, then,” replied Hanna, “an' little thanks to you for your civility.”
“I wish I knew the evenin',” said Bryan, “that I might be at Carriglass.”
“When will we go, Kathleen,” asked her sister, turning slyly to her.
“Why, you're sich a light-brained cracked creature,” replied Kathleen, “that I can't tell whether you're joking or not.”
“The sorra joke I'm jokin',” she replied, striving suddenly to form her features into a serious expression. “Well, then, I have it,” she proceeded. “Some Thursday, Bryan, in the middle o' next week—now you know I'm not jokin', Kathleen.”
“Will you come, Kathleen?” inquired Bryan.
“Why, if Hanna goes, I suppose I must,” she replied, but without looking up.
“Well then I'll have a sharp look-out on Thursday.”