“Betune you an’ me, Peggy, I’ll tell you a sacret; I was the boy for deludin them.  It’s very well known the matches I might a got; but you see, you little shaver, it was waitin’ for yourself I was.”

“For me!  A purty story indeed I’m sure it was!  Oh, afther that!  Why, Phelim, how can you——­Well, well, did any one ever hear the likes?”

“Be the vestments, it’s thruth.  I had you in my eye these three years, but was waitin’ till I’d get together as much money as ud’ set us up in the world dacently.  Give me that egg-shell agin.  Talkin’s dhruthy work. Shudorth, a rogarah! (* This to you you rogue) an’ a pleasant honeymoon to us!”

“Wait till we’re married first, Phelim; thin it’ll be time enough to dhrink that.”

“Come, acushla, it’s your turn now; taste the shell, an’ you’ll see how lovin’ it’ll make us.  Mother’s milk’s a thrifle to it.”

“Well, if I take this, Phelim, I’ll not touch another dhrop to-night.  In the mane time here’s whatever’s best for us!  Whoo!  Oh, my! but that’s strong!  I dunna how the people can dhrink so much of it!”

“Faith, nor me; except bekase they have a regard for it, an’ that it’s worth havin’ a regard for, jist like yourself an’ me.  Upon my faix, Peggy, it bates all, the love an likin’ I have for you, an’ ever had these three years past.  I tould you about the eyes, mavourneen, an’—­an’—­about the lips—­”

“Phelim—­behave—­I say—­now stop wid you—­well—­well—­but you’re the tazin’ Phelim!—­Throth the girls may be glad when you’re married,” exclaimed Peggy, adjusting her polished hair.

“Bad cess to the bit, if ever I got so sweet a one in my life—­the soft end of a honeycomb’s a fool to it.  One thing, Peggy, I can tell you—­that I’ll love you in great style.  Whin we’re marrid it’s I that’ll soodher you up.  I won’t let the wind blow on you.  You must give up workin’, too.  All I’ll ax you to do will be to nurse the childhre; an’ that same will keep you busy enough, plase Goodness.”

“Upon my faix, Phelim, you’re the very sarra, so you are.  Will you be asy now?  I’ll engage when you’re married, it’ll soon be another story wid you.  Maybe you’d care little about us thin!”

“Be the vestments, I’m spakin’ pure gospel, so I am.  Sure you don’t know that to be good husbands runs in our family.  Every one of them was as sweet as thracle to their wives.  Why, there’s that ould cock, my fadher, an’ if you’d see how he butthers up the ould woman to this day, it ’ud make your heart warm to any man o’ the family.”

“Ould an’ young was ever an’ always the same to you, Phelim.  Sure the ouldest woman in the parish, if she happened to be single, couldn’t miss of your blarney.  It’s reported you’re goin’ to be marrid to an ould woman.’

“He—–­hem—­ahem!  Bad luck to this cowld I have! it’s stickin’ in my throath entirely, so it is!—­hem!—­to a what?”

“Why to an ould woman, wid a great deal of the hard goold!”