“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.”
“Wiry, Paddy,” replied Larry, “when Phelim gets her, he'll have a patch of his own, as well as another. There's that 'half-acre,' and a betther piece o' land isn't in Europe!”
“Well, but what plenishin' are they to have, Larry? A bare half acre's but a poor look up.”
“I'd as soon you'd not make little of it, in the mane time,” replied Larry, rather warmly. “As good a couple as ever they wor lived on that half acre; along wid what they earned by hard work otherwise.”
“I'm not disparagin' it, Larry; I'd be long sorry; but about the furniture? What are they to begin the world wid?”
“Hut,” said Devlin, “go to the sarra wid yez!—What 'ud they want, no more nor other young people like them, to begin the world wid? Are you goin' to make English or Scotch of them, that never marries till they're able to buy a farm an' stock it, the nagurs. By the staff in my hand, an Irish man 'ud lash a dozen o' them, wid all then prudence! Hasn't Phelim an' Peggy health and hands, what most new-married couples in Ireland begins the world wid? Sure they're not worse nor a thousand others?”
“Success, Antony,” said Phelim. “Here's your health for that!”
“God be thanked they have health and hands,” said Donovan. “Still, Antony, I'd like that they'd have somethin' more.”
“Well, then, Paddy, spake up for yourself,” observed Larry. “What will you put to the fore for the colleen? Don't take both flesh an' bone!”
“I'll not spake up, till I know all that Phelim's to expect,” said Donovan. “I don't think he has a right to be axin' anything wid sich a girl as my Peggy.”
“Hut, tut, Paddy! She's a good colleen enough; but do you think she's above any one that carries the name of O'Toole upon him? Still, it's but raisonable for you to wish the girl well settled. My Phelim will have one half o' my worldly goods, at all evints.”
“Name them, Larry, if you plase.”
“Why, he'll have one o' the goats—the gray one, for she's the best o' the two, in throth. He'll have two stools; three hens, an' a toss-up for the cock. The biggest o' the two pots; two good crocks; three good wooden trenchers, an'—hem—he'll have his own—I say, Paddy, are you listenin' to me?—Phelim, do you hear what I'm givin' you, a veehonee?—his own bed! An' there's all I can or will do for him. Now do you spake up for Peggy.”
“I'm to have my own bedstead too,” said Phelim, “an' bad cess to the stouter one in Europe. It's as good this minute as it was eighteen years agone.”
“Paddy Donovan, spake up,” said Larry.
“Spake up!” said Paddy, contemptuously. “Is it for three crowns' worth I'd spake up? The bedstead, Phelim! Bedhu husth, (* hold your tongue) man!”
“Put round the bottle,” said Phelim, “we're dhry here.”
“Thrue enough, Phelim,” said the father. “Paddy, here's towarst you an' yours—nabors—all your healths—young couple! Paddy, give us your hand, man alive! Sure, whether we agree or not, this won't put between us.”
“Throth, it won't, Larry—an' I'm thankful to you. Your health, Larry, an' all your healths! Phelim an' Peggy, success to yez, whether or not! An' now, in regard o' your civility, I will spake up. My proposal is this:—I'll put down guinea for guinea wid you.”
Now we must observe, by the way, that this was said under the firm conviction that neither Phelim nor the father had a guinea in their possession.
“I'll do that same, Paddy,” said Larry; “but I'll lave it to the present company, if you're not bound to put down the first guinea. Nabors, amn't I right?”
“You are right, Larry,” said Burn; “it's but fair that Paddy should put down the first.”
“Molly, achora,” said Donovan to the wife, who, by the way, was engaged in preparing the little feast usual on such occasions—“Molly, achora, give me that ould glove you have in your pocket.”
She immediately handed him an old shammy glove, tied up into a hard knot, which he felt some difficulty in unloosing.
“Come, Larry,” said he, laying down a guinea-note, “cover that like a man.”
“Phelim carries my purse,” observed the father; but he had scarcely spoken when the laughter of the company rang loudly through the house—The triumph of Donovan appeared to be complete, for he thought the father's alusion to Phelim tantamount to an evasion.
“Phelim! Phelim carries it! Faix, an' I, doubt he finds it a light burdyeen.”
Phelim approached in all his glory.
“What am I to do?” he inquired, with a swagger.
“You're to cover that guinea-note wid a guinea, if you can,” said Donovan.
“Whether 'ud you prefar goold or notes,” said Phelim, looking pompously about him; “that's the talk.”
This was received with another merry peal of laughter.
“Oh, goold—goold by all manes!” replied Donovan.
“Here goes the goold, my worthy,” said Phelim, laying down his guinea with a firm slap upon the table.
Old Donovan seized it, examined it, then sent it round, to satisfy himself that it was a bona fide guinea.
On finding that it was good, he became blank a little; his laugh lost its strength, much of his jollity was instantly neutralized, and his face got at least two inches longer. Larry now had the laugh against him, and the company heartily joined in it.
“Come, Paddy,” said Larry, “go an!—ha, ha, ha!”
Paddy fished for half a minute through the glove; and, after what was apparently a hard chase, brought up another guinea, which he laid down.
“Come, Phelim!” said he, and his eye brightened again with a hope that Phelim would fail.
“Good agin!” said Phelim, thundering down another, which was instantly subjected to a similar scrutiny.
“You'll find it good,” said Larry. “I wish we had a sackful o' them. Go an, Paddy. Go an, man, who's afeard?”
“Sowl, I'm done,” said Donovan, throwing down the purse with a hearty laugh—“give me your hand, Larry. Be the goold afore us, I thought to do you. Sure these two guineas is for my rint, an' we mustn't let them come atween us at all.”
“Now,” said Larry, “to let you see that my son's not widout something to begin the world wid—Phelim, shill out the rest o' the yallow boys.”
“Faix, you ought to dhrink the ould woman's health for this,” said Phelim. “Poor ould crathur, many a long day she was savin' up these for me. It's my mother I'm speakin' about.”
“An' we will, too,” said the father; “here's