“Faix, you ought to dhrink the ould woman’s health for this,” said Phelim.  “Poor ould crathur, many a long day she was savin’ up these for me.  It’s my mother I’m speakin’ about.”

“An’ we will, too,” said the father; “here’s Sheelah’s health, neighbors!  The best poor man’s wife that ever threwn a gown over her shouldhers.”

This was drank with all the honors, and the negotiation proceeded.

“Now,” said Appleton, “what’s to be done?  Paddy, say what you’ll do for the girl.”

“Money’s all talk,” said Donovan; “I’ll give the girl the two-year ould heifer—­an’ that’s worth double what his father has promised Phelim; I’ll give her a stone o’ flax, a dacent suit o’ clo’es, my blessin’—­an’ there’s her fortune.”

“Has she neither bed nor beddin’?” inquired Larry.

“Why, don’t you say that Phelim’s to have his own bed?” observed Donovan.  “Sure one bed ’ill be plinty for them.”

“I don’t care a damn about fortune,” said Phelim, for the first time taking a part in the bargain—­“so long as I get the darlin’ herself.  But I think there ‘ud be no harm in havin’ a spare pair o’ blankets—­an’, for that matther, a bedstead, too—­in case a friend came to see a body.”

“I don’t much mind givin’ you a brother to the bedstead you have, Phelim,” replied Donovan, winking at the company, for he was perfectly aware of the nature of Phelim’s bedstead.

“I’ll tell you what you must do,” said Larry, “otherwise I’ll not stand it.  Give the colleen a chaff bed, blankets an’ all other parts complate, along wid that slip of a pig.  If you don’t do this, Paddy Donovan, why we’ll finish the whiskey an’ part friends—­but it’s no match.”

“I’ll never do it, Larry.  The bed an’ beddin’ I’ll give; but the pig I’ll by no manner o’ manes part wid.”

“Put round the bottle,” said Phelim, “we’re gettin’ dhry agin—­sayin’ nothin’ is dhroothy work.  Ould man, will you not bother us about fortune!”

“Come, Paddy Donnovan,” wid Devlin, “dang it, let out a little, considher he has ten guineas; and I give it as my downright maxim an opinion, that he’s fairly entitled to the pig.”

“You’re welcome to give your opinion, Antony, an’ I’m welcome not to care a rotten sthraw about it.  My daughter’s wife enough for him, widout a gown to her back, if he had his ten guineas doubled.”

“An’ my son,” said Larry, “is husband enough for a betther girl nor ever called you father—­not makin’ little, at the same time, of either you or her.”

“Paddy,” said Burn, “there’s no use in spakin’ that way.  I agree wid Antony, that you ought to throw in the ‘slip.’”

“Is it what I have to pay my next gale o’ rint wid?  No, no!  If he won’t marry her widout it, she’ll get as good that will.”

“Saize the ‘slip,” said Phelim, “the darlin’ herself here is all the slip I want.”

“But I’m not so,” said Larry, “the ‘slip’ must go in, or it’s a brake off.  Phelim can get girls that has money enough to buy us all out o’ root.  Did you hear that, Paddy Donovan?”