Part 11 (1/2)
to you, achree, an' I won't say it. G.o.d spare you to us! It was you put the bone in us, an' that's what all the country says, big an' little, young and ould; an' G.o.d He knows it's truth, and nothin' else.”
”Indeed, no, thin, Pether, it's not altogether thruth, you desarve your full share of it. You backed me well, acushla, in everything, an' if you had been a dhrinkin', idle, rollikin' vagabone, what 'ud signify all, that me or the likes o' me could do.”
”Faith, an' it was you made me what I am, Ellish; you tuck the soft side o' me, you beauty; an' it's well you did, for by this--hem, upon my reputation, if you had gone to cross purposes with me you'd find yourself in the wrong box. An', you phanix of beauty, you managed the childhre, the crathurs, the same way--an' a good way it is, in throth.”
”Pether, wor you ever thinkin' o' Father Muloahy's sweetness to us of late?”
”No, thin, the sorra one o' me thought of it. Why, Ellish?”
”Didn't you obsarve that for the last three or four months he's full of attintions to us? Every Sunday he brings you up, an' me, if I'd go, to the althar,--an' keeps you there by way of showin' you respect. Pether, it's not you, but your money he respects; an' I think there ought to be no respect o' persons in the chapel, any how. You're not a bit nearer G.o.d by bein' near the althar; for how do we know but the poorest crathur there is nearer to heaven than we are!”
”Faith, sure enough, Ellish; but what deep skame are you penethratin'
now, you desaver?”
”I'd lay my life, you'll have a proposial o' marriage from Father Mulcahy, atween our Dan an' Miss Granua. For many a day he's hintin' to us, from time to time, about the great offers she had; now what's the rason, if she had these great offers, that he didn't take them?”
”Bedad, Ellish, you're the greatest headpiece in all Europe. Murdher alive, woman, what a fine counsellor you'd make. An' suppose he did offer, Ellish, what 'ud you be sayin' to him?”
”Why, that 'ud depind entirely upon what he's able to give her--they say he has money. It 'ud depind, too, upon whether Dan has any likin' for her or not.”
”He's often wid her, I know; an' I needn't tell you, Ellish, that afore we wor spliced together, I was often wid somebody that I won't mintion.
At all evints, he has made Dan put the big O afore the Connell, so that he has him now full namesake to the Counsellor; an', faith, that itself'
'ud get him a wife.”
”Well, the best way is to say nothin', an' to hear nothin', till his Reverence spates out, an' thin we'll see what can be done.”
Ellish's sagacity had not misled her. In a few months afterwards Father Mulcahy was asked by young Dan Connell to dine; and as he and holiest Ellish were sitting together, in the course of the evening, the priest broached the topic as follows:--
”Mrs. Connell, I think this whiskey is better than my four-year old, that I bought at the auction the other day, although Dan says mine's better. Between ourselves, that Dan is a clever, talented young fellow; and if he happens upon a steady, sensible wife, there is no doubt but he will die a respectable man. But, by the by, Mrs. Connell, you've never tried my whiskey; and upon my credit, you must soon, for I know your opinion would decide the question.”
”Is it worth while to decide it, your Reverence? I suppose the thruth is, sir, that both is good enough for anyone; an' I think that's as much as we want.”
Thus far she went, but never alluded to Dan, judiciously throwing the onus of introducing that subject upon the priest.
”Dan says mine's better,” observed Father Mulcahy; ”and I would certainly give a great deal for his opinion upon that or any other subject, except theology.”
”You ought,” replied Ellish, ”to be a bether judge of whiskey nor either Dan nor me; an' I'll tell you why--you dhrink it in more places, and can make comparishment one wid another; but Dan an' me is confined mostly to our own, an' of that same we take very little, an' the less the betther for people in business, or indeed for anybody.”
”Very true, Mrs. Connell! But for all that, I won't give up Dan's judgment in anything within his own line of business, still excepting theology, for which, he hasn't the learning.”
”He's a good son, without _tay_ology--as good as ever broke the world's bread,” said Peter, ”glory be to G.o.d! Although, for that matther, he ought to be as well acquainted wid _tay_ology as your Reverence, in regard that he _sells_ more of it nor you do.”
”A good son, they say, Mrs. Connell, will make a good husband. I wonder you don't think of settling him in life. It's full time.”
”Father, avourneen, we must lave that wid himself. I needn't be tellin'
you, that it 'ud be hard to find a girl able to bring what the girl that 'ud expect Dan ought to bring.”
This was a staggerer to the priest, who recruited his ingenuity by drinking Peter's health, and Ellish's.
”Have you n.o.body in your eye for him, Mrs. Connell?”
”Faith, I'll engage she has,” replied Peter, with a ludicrous grin--”I'll venture for to say she has that.”