"
Phelim's eyes turned upon the priest and the old woman alternately,
with an air of bewilderment which, had the priest been a man of much
observation, might have attracted his attention.
"Oh murdher alive, Mrs. Doran," said Phelim, "how am I to do for clo'es?
Faith, I'd like to appear dacent in the thing, anyhow."
"True," said the priest. "Have you made no provision for smoothing the
externals of your admirer? Is he to appear in this trim?"
"Bedad, sir," said Phelim, "we never thought o' that. All the world
knows, your Reverence, that I might carry my purse in my eye, an' never
feel a mote in it. But the thruth is, sir, she was so lively on the
subject--in a kind of a pleasant, coaxin' hurry of her own--an' indeed
I was so myself, too. Augh, Mrs. Doran! Be gorra, sir, she put her
comedher an me entirely, so she did. Well, be my sowl, I'll be the
flower of a husband to her anyhow. I hope your Reverence 'll come to the
christ'nin'? But about the clo'es;--bad luck saize the tack I have
to put to my back, but what you see an me, if we wor to be married
to-morrow."
"Well, Phelim, aroon," said Mrs. Doran, "his Reverence here has my
little pences o' money in his hands, an' the best way is for you to get
the price of a suit from him. You must get clo'es, an' good ones, too,
Phelim, sooner nor any stop should be put to our marriage.
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