“Well, but what plenishin’ are they to have, Larry?  A bare half acre’s but a poor look up.”

“I’d as soon you’d not make little of it, in the mane time,” replied Larry, rather warmly.  “As good a couple as ever they wor lived on that half acre; along wid what they earned by hard work otherwise.”

“I’m not disparagin’ it, Larry; I’d be long sorry; but about the furniture?  What are they to begin the world wid?”

“Hut,” said Devlin, “go to the sarra wid yez!—­What ’ud they want, no more nor other young people like them, to begin the world wid?  Are you goin’ to make English or Scotch of them, that never marries till they’re able to buy a farm an’ stock it, the nagurs.  By the staff in my hand, an Irish man ‘ud lash a dozen o’ them, wid all then prudence!  Hasn’t Phelim an’ Peggy health and hands, what most new-married couples in Ireland begins the world wid?  Sure they’re not worse nor a thousand others?”

“Success, Antony,” said Phelim.  “Here’s your health for that!”

“God be thanked they have health and hands,” said Donovan.  “Still, Antony, I’d like that they’d have somethin’ more.”

“Well, then, Paddy, spake up for yourself,” observed Larry.  “What will you put to the fore for the colleen?  Don’t take both flesh an’ bone!”

“I’ll not spake up, till I know all that Phelim’s to expect,” said Donovan.  “I don’t think he has a right to be axin’ anything wid sich a girl as my Peggy.”

“Hut, tut, Paddy!  She’s a good colleen enough; but do you think she’s above any one that carries the name of O’Toole upon him?  Still, it’s but raisonable for you to wish the girl well settled.  My Phelim will have one half o’ my worldly goods, at all evints.”

“Name them, Larry, if you plase.”

“Why, he’ll have one o’ the goats—­the gray one, for she’s the best o’ the two, in throth.  He’ll have two stools; three hens, an’ a toss-up for the cock.  The biggest o’ the two pots; two good crocks; three good wooden trenchers, an’—­hem—­he’ll have his own—­I say, Paddy, are you listenin’ to me?—­Phelim, do you hear what I’m givin’ you, a veehonee?—­his own bed! An’ there’s all I can or will do for him.  Now do you spake up for Peggy.”

“I’m to have my own bedstead too,” said Phelim, “an’ bad cess to the stouter one in Europe.  It’s as good this minute as it was eighteen years agone.”

“Paddy Donovan, spake up,” said Larry.

“Spake up!” said Paddy, contemptuously.  “Is it for three crowns’ worth I’d spake up?  The bedstead, Phelim! Bedhu husth, (* hold your tongue) man!”

“Put round the bottle,” said Phelim, “we’re dhry here.”

“Thrue enough, Phelim,” said the father.  “Paddy, here’s towarst you an’ yours—­nabors—­all your healths—­young couple!  Paddy, give us your hand, man alive!  Sure, whether we agree or not, this won’t put between us.”

“Throth, it won’t, Larry—­an’ I’m thankful to you.  Your health, Larry, an’ all your healths!  Phelim an’ Peggy, success to yez, whether or not!  An’ now, in regard o’ your civility, I will spake up.  My proposal is this:—­I’ll put down guinea for guinea wid you.”