’"On me sowl I’m not,” sez I.

‘"Then you’re a cruel handsome man, an’ that’s worse,” sez she, heaving big sighs an’ lookin’ crossways.

’"You know your own mind,” sez I.

’"’Twud be better for me if I did not,” she sez.

‘"There’s a dale to be said on both sides av that,” sez I, unthinkin’.

’"Say your own part av ut, then, Terence, darlin’,” sez she; “for begad I’m thinkin’ I’ve said too much or too little for an honest girl,” an’ wid that she put her arms round my neck an’ kissed me.

‘"There’s no more to be said afther that,” sez I, kissin’ her back again—­Oh the mane scutt that I was, my head ringin’ wid Dinah Shadd!  How does ut come about, sorr, that when a man has put the comether on wan woman, he’s sure bound to put it on another?  ’Tis the same thing at musketry.  Wan day ivry shot goes wide or into the bank, an’ the next, lay high lay low, sight or snap, ye can’t get off the bull’s-eye for ten shots runnin’.’

’That only happens to a man who has had a good deal of experience.  He does it without thinking,’ I replied.

‘Thankin’ you for the complimint, sorr, ut may be so.  But I’m doubtful whether you mint ut for a complimint.  Hear now; I sat there wid Judy on my knee tellin’ me all manner av nonsinse an’ only sayin’ “yes” an’ “no,” when I’d much better ha’ kept tongue betune teeth.  An’ that was not an hour afther I had left Dinah!  What I was thinkin’ av I cannot say.  Presintly, quiet as a cat, ould Mother Sheehy came in velvet-dhrunk.  She had her daughter’s red hair, but ‘twas bald in patches, an’ I cud see in her wicked ould face, clear as lightnin’, what Judy wud be twenty years to come.  I was for jumpin’ up, but Judy niver moved.

‘"Terence has promust, mother,” sez she, an’ the could sweat bruk out all over me.  Ould Mother Sheehy sat down of a heap an’ began playin’ wid the cups.  “Thin you’re a well-matched pair,” she sez very thick.  “For he’s the biggest rogue that iver spoiled the queen’s shoe-leather” an’—­

’"I’m off, Judy,” sez I.  “Ye should not talk nonsinse to your mother.  Get her to bed, girl.”

‘"Nonsinse!” sez the ould woman, prickin’ up her ears like a cat an’ grippin’ the table-edge. “’Twill be the most nonsinsical nonsinse for you, ye grinnin’ badger, if nonsinse ‘tis.  Git clear, you.  I’m goin’ to bed.”

‘I ran out into the dhark, my head in a stew an’ my heart sick, but I had sinse enough to see that I’d brought ut all on mysilf.  “It’s this to pass the time av day to a panjandhrum av hell-cats,” sez I.  “What I’ve said, an’ what I’ve not said do not matther.  Judy an’ her dam will hould me for a promust man, an’ Dinah will give me the go, an’ I desarve ut.  I will go an’ get dhrunk,” sez I, “an’ forget about ut, for ’tis plain I’m not a marrin’ man.”