“Thin, upon my solevation, I’m sarry to hear it, and so will all at home, for there’s not in the parish we’re sittin’ in a couple that our family has a greater regard an’ friendship for, than him and yourself.  Faix, my modher, no longer ago than Friday night last, argued down Bartle Meegan’s throath, that you and Biddy Martin wor the two portliest weemen that comes into the chapel.  God forgive myself, I was near quarrelin’ wid Bartle on the head of it, bekase I tuck my modher’s part, as I had a good right to do.”

“Thrath, I’m thankful to you both, Condy, for your kindness.”

“Oh, the sarra taste o’ kindness was in it at all, Ellish, ’twas only the truth; an’ as long as I live, I’ll stand up for that.”

“Arrah, how is your aunt down at Carntall?”

“Indeed, thin, but middlin’, not gettin’ her health:  she’ll soon give the crow a puddin’, any way; thin, Ellish, you thief, I’m in for the yallow boys.  Do you know thim that came in wid me?”

“Why, thin, I can’t say I do.  Who are they, Condy?”

“Why one o’ them’s a bachelor to my sisther Norah, a very dacent boy, indeed—­him wid the frieze jock upon him, an’ the buckskin breeches.  The other three’s from Teernabraighera beyant.  They’re related to my brother-in-law, Mick Dillon, by his first wife’s brother-in-law’s uncle.  They’re come to this neighborhood till the ’Sizes, bad luck to them, goes over; for you see, they’re in a little throuble.”

“The Lord grant them safe out of it, poor boys!”

“I brought them up here to treat them, poor fellows; an’, Ellish, avourneen, you must credit me for whatsomever we may have.  The thruth is, you see, that when we left home, none of us had any notion of drinkin’ or I’d a put somethin’ in my pocket, so that I’m taken at an average.—­Bud-an’-age! how is little Dan?  Sowl, Ellish, that goorsoon, when he grows up, will be a credit to you.  I don’t think there’s a finer child in Europe of his age, so there isn’t.”

“Indeed, he’s a good child, Condy.  But Condy, avick, about givin’ credit:—­by thim five crasses, if I could give score to any boy in the parish, it ’ud be to yourself.  It was only last night that I made a promise against doin’ such a thing for man or mortual.  We’re a’most broken an’ harrish’d out o’ house an’ home by it; an’ what’s more, Condy, we intend to give up the business.  The landlord’s at us every day for his rint, an’ we owe for the two last kegs we got, but hasn’t a rap to meet aither o’ thim; an’ enough due to us if we could get it together:  an’ whisper, Condy, atween ourselves, that’s what ails Pettier, although he doesn’t wish to let an to any one about it.”

“Well, but you know I’m safe, Ellish?”

“I know you are, avourneen, as the bank itself; an’ should have what you want wid a heart an’ a half, only for the promise I made an my two knees last night, aginst givin’ credit to man or woman.  Why the dickens didn’t you come yistherday?”