"Now, Paddy Donovan, that we're altogether, let me tell you one thing:
there's not a betther natur'd boy, nor a stouther, claner young fellow
in the parish, than my Phelim. He'll make your daughther as good, a
husband as ever broke bread!"
"I'm not sayin' against that, Larry. He is a good-nathur'd boy: but I
tell you, Larry Toole, that my daughter's his fill of a wife any day.
An' I'll put this to the back o' that--she's a hard-workin' girl, that
ates no idle bread."
"Very right," said Sam Appleton. "Phelim's a hairo, an' she's a beauty.
Dang me, but they wor made for one another. Phelim, _abouchal_, why
don't you--oh, I see you are. Why, I was goin' to bid you make up to
her."
"Give no gosther, Sam," replied Phelim, "but sind round the bottle, an'
don't forget to let it come this way. I hardly tasted a dhrop to-night."
"Oh, Phelim!" exclaimed Peggy.
"Whisht!" said Phelim, "there's no use in lettin' the ould fellows be
committin' sin. Why, they're hearty (* Tipsy) as it is, the sinners."
"Come, nabors," said Burn, "I'm the boy that's for close work. How does
the match stand? You're both my friends, an' may this be poison to me,
but I'll spake like an honest man, for the one as well as for the other.
"Well, then," said Donovan, "how is Phelim to support my daughther,
Larry? Sure that's a fair questin', any way.
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