"
"That's the only objection that can bo brought against him. He's the boy
can make the money; I'm a fool to him. I'll tell you what, Jemmy Murray,
may I never go home, but he'd skin a flint. Did you hear anything? Now!"
Murray, who appeared to be getting somewhat tired of this topic, replied
rather hastily--
"Why, Cooney Finnigan, if he could skin the devil himself and ait him
afterwards, she wouldn't have him. She has refused some of the best
looking young men in the parish, widout either rhyme or raison, an' I'm
sure she's not goin' to take your leprechaun of a son, that you might
run a five-gallon keg between his knees. Sure, bad luck to the thing his
legs resemble but a pair of raipin' hooks, wid their backs outwards. Let
us pass this subject, and come in till we drink a glass together."
"And so you call my son a leprechaun, and he has legs like raipin'
hooks!"
"Ha, ha, ha! Come in, man alive; never mind little Toal."
"Like raipin' hooks! I'll tell you what, Jemmy, I say now in sincerity,
that there is every prospect of a plentiful sayson; and that there may,
I pray God this day; meadows an' all--O above all, the meadows, for I'm
not in the hay business myself."
"So," said Murray, laughing, "you would cut off your nose to vex your
face."
"I would any day, even if should suffer myself by it; and now good-bye,
Jemmy Murray, to the dioual I pitch the whole thing! Rapin' hooks!"
And as he spoke, off went the furious little extortioner, irretrievably
offended.
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