“Pray ma’am,” said she, “what’s the raisin’ you refused to let me in to-night, afther gettin’ away wid my life from that netarnal blackguard, Bartle Flanagan—­what’s the raisin I say, ma’am, that you kep’ me out afther you knewn who was in it?”

There was here visible a slight vibration of the head, rather gentle at the beginning, but clearly prophetic of ultimate energy, and an unequivocal determination to enforce whatever she might say with suitable action even in its widest sense.

“An’ pray, ma’am,” said the other, for however paradoxical it may appear, it is an established case that in all such displays between women, politeness usually keeps pace with scurrility; “An’ pray, ma’am,” replied Kitty, “is it to the likes o’ you we’re to say our catechize?”

Biddy was resolved not to be outdone in politeness, and replied—­

“Af you plaise, ma’am,” with a courtesy.

“Lord protect us! what will we hear next, I wondher?  Well, ma’am?” Here her antagonist stood, evidently waiting for the onset.

“You’ll hear more than’ll go down your back pleasant afore I’ve done wid you, ma’am.”

“Don’t be makin’ us long for it in the mane time, Miss Biddy.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Miss Kitty.  Why did you refuse to let me in tonight?”

“For good raisons—­bekase I—­hard you cologgin’ an’ whisperin’ wid a pack of fellows without.”

“An’ have you the brass to say so, knowin’ that it’s false an’ a lie into the bargain?” (Head energetically shaken.)

“Have I the brass, is it?  I keep my brass in my pocket, ma’am, not in my face, like some of our friends.” (Head shaken in reply to the action displayed by Kitty.)

This was a sharp retort; but it was very well returned.

“Thank you, ma’am,” replied Biddy, “if it’s faces you’re spakin’ about, I know you’re able to outface me any day; but whatever’s in my face there’s no desate in my heart, Miss Lowry.  Put that in your pocket.”  (One triumphant shake of the head at the conclusion.)

“There’s as much in your heart as’ll shame your face, yet, Miss Nulty.  Put that in yours.” (Another triumphant shake of the head.)

“Thank God,” retorted Biddy, “none o’ my friends ever knewn what a shamed face is.  I say, madam, none o’ my family iver wore a shamed face. Thiguthu shin?” (Do you understand that? )

This, indeed, was a bitter hit; for the reader must know that a sister of Lowry’s had not passed through the world without the breath of slander tarnishing her fair fame.

“Oh, it’s well known your tongue’s no slander, Biddy.”

“Thin that’s more than can be said of yours, Kitty.”

“If my sisther met with a misfortune, it was many a betther woman’s case than ever you’ll be.  Don’t shout till you get out of the wood, ma’am.  You dunna what’s afore yourself.  Any how, it’s not be lettin’ fellows into the masther’s kitchen whiff the family’s in bed, an’ dhrinkin’ whiskey wid them, that’ll get you through the world wid your character safe. * * * An’ you’re nothin’ but a barge, or you’d not dhraw down my sisther’s name that never did you an ill turn, whatever she did to herself, poor girl!”