“Do you see my hands acrass?  Be thim five crasses, I’m not promised to a girl livin’, so I’m not, nor wouldn’t, bekase I had you in my eye.  Now will you tell me what I’m wantin’ you?  The grace o’ Heaven light down an you, an’ be a good, coaxin darlin’ for wanst.  Be this an’ be that, if ever you heerd or seen sich doin’s an’ times as we’ll have when we’re marrid.  Now the weeny whisper, a colleen dhas.”

“It’s time enough yet to let you know my mind, Phelim.  If you behave
yourself an’ be-----Why thin is it at the bottle agin you are?  Now don’t
dhrink so much, Phelim, or it’ll get into your head.  I was sayin’ that
if you behave yourself, an’ be a good boy, I may tell you somethin’
soon.”

“Somethin’ soon!  Live horse, an’ you’ll get grass!  Peggy, if that’s the way wid you, the love’s all on my side, I see clearly.  Are you willin’ to marry me, anyhow?”

“I’m willin’ to do whatsomever my father an’ mother wishes.”

“I’m for havin’ the weddin’ off-hand; an’ of coorse, if we agree to-night, I think our best plan is to have ourselves called on Sunday.  An’ I’ll tell you what, avourneen—­be the holy vestments, if I was to be ‘called’ to fifty on the same Sunday, you’re the darlin’ I’d marry.”

“Phelim, it’s time for us to go up to the fire; we’re long enough here.  I thought you had only three words to say to me.”

“Why, if you’re tired o’ me, Peggy, I don’t want you to stop.  I wouldn’t force myself on the best girl that ever stepped.”

“Sure you have tould me all you want to say, an’ there’s no use in us stayin’ here.  You know, Phelim, there’s not a girl in the Parish ’ud believe a word that ‘ud come but o’ your lips.  Sure there’s none o’ them but you coorted one time or other.  If you could get betther, Phelim, I dunna whether you’d be here to-night at all or not.”

“Answer me this, Peggy.  What do you! think your father ‘ud be willin’ to give you?  Not that I care a cron abaun about it, for I’d marry you wid an inch of candle.”

“You know my father’s but a poor man, Phelim, an’ can give little or nothing.  Them that won’t marry me as I am, needn’t come here to look for a fortune.”

“I know that, Peggy, an’ be the same token, I want no fortune at all wid you but yourself, darlin’.  In the mane time, to show you that I could get a fortune—­Dhera Lorha Heena, I could have a wife wid a hundre an’ twenty guineas!”

Peggy received this intelligence much in the same manner as Larry and Sheelah had received it.  Her mirth was absolutely boisterous for at least ten minutes.  Indeed, so loud had it been, that Larry and her father could not help asking:—­

“Arrah, what’s the fun, Peggy, achora?”

“Oh, nothin’,” she replied, “but one o’ Phelim’s bounces.”

“Now,” said Phelim, “you won’t believe me?  Be all the books—­”

Peggy’s mirth prevented his oaths from being heard.  In vain he declared, protested, and swore.  On this occasion, he was compelled to experience the fate peculiar to all liars.  Even truth, from his lips, was looked upon as falsehood.