Volume I Part 21 (1/2)
”Them's fine girls o' yours.”
Poor Mat opened his eyes with delight at the prospect of such a match for one of his daughters, and said they were ”comely lumps o' girls, sure enough; but, what was betther, they wor good.”
”That's what I'm thinking,” says Flanagan. ”There's two ten-poun'
notes, and a five, and one is six, and one is seven; and three tenpinnies is two-and-sixpence; that's twenty-seven poun' two-and-sixpence: eight-pence-ha'penny is the lot; but I haven't copper in my company, Mat.”
”Oh, no matther, Misther Flanagan. And is it one o' my colleens you've been throwing the eye at, sir?”
”Yes, Mat, it is. You're askin' too much for them firkins?”
”Oh, Misther Flanagan, consider it's prime b.u.t.ther. I'll back my girls for making up a bit o' b.u.t.ther agen any girls in Ireland; and my cows is good, and the pasture prime.”
”'T is a farthing a poun' too high, Mat; and the market not lively.”
”The b.u.t.ther is good, Mr. Flanagan; and not decenther girls in Ireland than the same girls, though I'm their father.”
”I'm thinking I'll marry one o' them, Mat.”
”Sure, an' it's proud I'll be, sir; and which o' them is it, maybe?”
”Faith, I don't know myself, Mat. Which do you think yourself?”
”Throth, myself doesn't know--they're all good. Nance is nice, and Biddy's biddable, and Kitty's cute.”
”You're a snug man, Mat; you ought to be able to give a husband a trifle with them.”
”Nothing worth _your_ while, anyhow, Misther Flanagan. But sure one o'
my girls without a rag to her back, or a tack to her feet, would be betther help to an honest industherin' man than one o' your showy lantherumswash divils out of a town, that would spend more than she'd bring with her.”
”That's thrue, Mat. I'll marry one o' your girls, I think.”
”You'll have my blessin', sir; and proud I'll be--and proud the girl ought to be--_that_ I'll say. And suppose, now, you'd come over on Sunday, and take share of a plain man's dinner, and take your pick o'
the girls--there's a fine bull goose that Nance towld me she'd have ready afther last ma.s.s; for Father Ulick said he'd come and dine with us.”
”I can't, Mat; I must be in the ca.n.a.l boat on Sunday; but I'll go and breakfast with you to-morrow, on my way to Bill Mooney's, who has a fine lot of pigs to sell--remarkable fine pigs.”
”Well, we'll expect you to breakfast, sir.”
”Mat, there must be no nonsense about the wedding.”
”As you plase, sir.”
”Just marry her off, and take her home. Short reckonings make long friends.”
”Thrue for you, sir.”
”Nothing to give with the girl, you say?”
”My blessin' only, sir.”