How
is he, the thief?"
"Throth, he's not well, to-day, in regard of a smotherin' about the
heart he tuck this mornin' afther his breakfast. He jist laid himself
on the bed a while, to see if it would go off of him--God be praised for
all his marcies!"
"Thin, upon my _sole_vation, I'm sarry to hear it, and so will all at
home, for there's not in the parish we're sittin' in a couple that our
family has a greater regard an' friendship for, than him and yourself.
Faix, my modher, no longer ago than Friday night last, argued down
Bartle Meegan's throath, that you and Biddy Martin wor the two portliest
weemen that comes into the chapel. God forgive myself, I was near
quarrelin' wid Bartle on the head of it, bekase I tuck my modher's part,
as I had a good right to do."
"Thrath, I'm thankful to you both, Condy, for your kindness."
"Oh, the sarra taste o' kindness was in it at all, Ellish, 'twas only
the truth; an' as long as I live, I'll stand up for that."
"Arrah, how is your aunt down at Carntall?"
"Indeed, thin, but middlin', not gettin' her health: she'll soon give
the crow a puddin', any way; thin, Ellish, you thief, I'm in for the
yallow boys. Do you know thim that came in wid me?"
"Why, thin, I can't say I do. Who are they, Condy?"
"Why one o' them's a bachelor to my sisther Norah, a very dacent boy,
indeed--him wid the frieze jock upon him, an' the buckskin breeches.
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