In Ireland the first object of a servant man, after entering the employment of his master, is to put himself upon an amicable footing with his fellow-servants of the other sex.  Such a step, besides being natural in itself, is often taken in consequence of the esprit du corps which prevails among persons of that class.  Bartle Flanagan, although he could not be said to act from any habit previously acquired in service, went to work with all the tact and adroitness of a veteran.  The next morning, after having left the barn where he slept, he contrived to throw himself in the way of Biddy Duggan, a girl, who, though vain and simple, was at the same time conscientious and honest.  On passing from the barn to the kitchen, he noticed her returning from the well with a pitcher of water in each hand, and as it is considered an act of civil attention for the male servant, if not otherwise employed, to assist the female in small, matters of the kind, so did Flanagan, in his best manner and kindest voice, bid her good-morning and offer to carry home the pitcher.

“It’s the least I may do,” said he, “now that I’m your fellow-servant; but before you go farther, lay down your burden, an’ let us chat awhile.”

“Indeed,” replied Biddy, “it’s little we expected ever to see your father’s son goin’ to earn his bread undher another man’s roof.”

“Pooh!  Biddy! there’s greater wondhers in the world than that, woman alive!  But tell me—­pooh—­ay, is there a thousand quarer things—­but I say, Biddy, how do you like to—­live wid this family?”

“Why, troth indeed, only for the withered ould leprechaun himself, divil a dacenter people ever broke bread.”

“Yet, isn’t it a wondher that the ould fellow is what he is, an’ he so full o’ money?”

“Troth, there’s one thing myself wondhers at more than that.”

“What, Biddy? let us hear it.”

“Why, that you could be mane an’ shabby! enough to come as a sarvint to ate the bread of the man that ruined yees!”

“Biddy,” replied Flanagan, “I’m glad! you’ve said it; but do you think that I have so bad a heart as too keep revinge in against an inimy?  How could I go to my knees at night, if I—­no, Biddy, we must be Christians.  Well! let us drop that; so you tell me this mother an’ son are kind to you.”

“As good-hearted a pair as ever lived.”

“Connor, of course, can’t but be very kind to so good-looking a girl as you are, Biddy,” said Bartle, with a knowing smile.

“Very kind! good-looking! ay, indeed, I’m sure o’ that, Bartle; behave! an’ don’t be gettin’ an wid any o’ your palavers.  What ’ud make Connor be kind to the likes of me, that way?”

“I don’t see why you oughtn’t an’ mightn’t—­you’re as good as him, if it goes to that.”

“Oh, yis, indeed!”

“Why, you know you’r handsome.”

“Handsome,” replied the vain girl, tightening her apron-strings, and assuming a sly, coquettish look; “Bartle, go ’an mind your business, and let me bring home my pitchers; it’s time the breakwist was down.  Sich nonsense!”