“Well, damn the devil, heaven pardon me for swearing, for it’s a thing I hate——­”

“——­And yet, many a fat oath you’ve bolted in your time.  Now on the nick of your conscience, Val darling, how many Bibles did you wear out, by a long and honest course of hard swearing?—­eh—­ha! ha! ha!”

“Ha! ha! ha!  Brian, I see there is little use in speaking to you, or being angry with you; you are a devilish pleasant hearty fellow, only something a little too rough about the tongue.”

“Never mind, Val, by all accounts it would be easy to reckon them; but seriously, is it true that the lower joint of your right thumb is horny, in consequence of having caught the character of your conscience from having kissed it so often?”

“Go on, Brian, go on; to be sure it is; they may say what they like—­I am not depending upon them, and I care little.  But now, Brian, there is one thing I will say, and I have long wished for an opportunity of saying it.”

“That’s my bully, out with it; don’t be dashed, Val, you’ll get over your modesty; upon my credit you will—­ha! ha! ha!”

“D—­n it, you can’t be serious for a minute; but no matter, I will out with it—­here’s your health and fireside, in the mean time!” Brian merely nodded in reply, but said nothing.  “Now you know, Brian, your farm and mine lie very snugly beside one another; observe that that’s what I begin with.”

“Very good.”

“Again, your family and mine live very close to one another, too.”

“Very good.”

“Now, what if part of the farms, and part of the families were to become united, and get spliced together, eh?”

“Very good, very good.”

“Well, but do you really think so, Brian?”

“Go on, if you please, and let us hear more of it; state your case, as you say at the sessions.”

“Well, then, there’s your daughter Mary, a handsome girl, and, by all accounts, as good as she is handsome—­and there’s my son Phil, who, excepting the cast (* Squint)—­is—­but, at any rate, if he’s no beauty, he’s a stout young fellow, for you know yourself that that little closeness about the knees is always a sign of strength.”

“That little closeness, Val!—­why, Vulture darling, isn’t one knee sugar candy, and the other licking it?—­but go on, it’s not bad for so far, go on; upon my credit it’s not.”

“I am glad you like it for so far—­then seriously, what would you think of a marriage between them?”

“Devil a prettier move you could make, Val.  As you say, the farms and the families lie convenient to one another—­and I don’t see what’s to prevent your proposal from being realized.  You’ll do well for Phil, of course—­for although he has the squint in both eyes, instead of only in one, like yourself—­and is twisted very much about the knees, more than you are a good deal—­still, Val—­neighbor Val, as I now may call you—­he is a stout, left-legged, round-shouldered blade; and I question whether the red poll does not become him better than a black one like yours would.”