“In that case, the girls must certainly buy something,” added Purcel.
“But we've no money, papa.”
“But,” replied the pedlar, “you have what's betther—good credit with the Cannie Soogah—och, upon my profits I'd rather have one sweet coaxin' smile from that purty little mouth of yours, Miss Julia, than money in hand any day! Ah! Misther Purcel, darlin', isn't it a poor thing not to have an estate of ten thousand a year?” and here he looked wistfully at the smiling Julia, and shrugged his shoulders like a man who knew he was never likely to gain his wishes.
“I would buy something,” said Mary, “but, like Julia, I am penniless.”
“Never say so, Miss Mary, to me; only name what you'd like—lave the price to my honesty, and the payment to my patience, and upon my profits you won't complain, I'll go bail.”
“Yes,” observed Julia, “or what if papa would treat us to something? Come, papa, for the sake of old times; let us see whether you have forgotten any of your former, craft.”
“Good, Judy! ha! ha! ha!—well done! but Cannie, have you nothing for the gentlemen?”
Now, we must pause for a little to state, that the moment M'Carthy, who was now present, heard the jolly pedlar's voice, he started, and felt considerably surprise. The tones of it were neither familiar to him nor yet were they strange. That he had heard them somewhere, and on some occasion, he could almost have sworn. Occasionally a turn of the man's voice would strike him as not being new to him, but again, for the next minute or two, it was such as he could not remember to have ever heard. This we say by way of parenthesis.
“For the gentlemen! Lord help you, Mr. Purcel, I never think of them when the ladies is before me—who would! However, I'm well prepared even for them. Here is a case o' razors that 'ud cut half an inch before the edge; now, if you find me another pair that'll do the seem—hem! the same—I'll buy the Bank of Ireland and give it to you for a new-year's-gift.”
“Don't you know this gentleman?” asked the proctor, pointing to M'Carthy.