“He!” said the good woman; “an' is it runnin' up comparishments betuxt yourself an' him you are afther? Why, Saint Peter wouldn't thrive on your money, you nager.” “Maybe Saint Pethur thruv on worse--but havn't you thruv as well on the Bodagh's, as if it had been honestly come by? I defy you an' the world both--to say that ever I tuck a penny from any one, more than my right. Lay that to the mimory of the ould Bodagh, an' see if it'll fit. It's no light guinea, any how.” Had Fardorougha been a man of ordinary standing and character in the country, from whom an insult could be taken, he would no doubt have been by a very summary process expelled the parlor. The history of his querulous and irascible temper, however, was so well known, and his offensive eccentricity of manner a matter of such established fact, that the father and son, on glancing at each other, were seized with the same spirit, and both gave way to an uncontrollable fit of laughter. “Is it a laughin' stock you're makin' of' it?” said Mrs. O'Brien, highly indignant. “Faith, achora, it may be no laughin' stock afther all,” replied the Bodagh. “I think, mother,” observed John, “that you and my father had better treat the matter with more seriousness. Connor O'Donovan is a young man not to be despised by any person at all near his own class of life who regards the peace and welfare of a daughter. His character stands very high; indeed, in every way unimpeachable.” The bitter scowl which had sat upon the small dark features of Fardorougha, when replying to the last attack of Mrs. O'Brien, passed away as John spoke. The old man turned hastily around, and, surveying the eulogist of his son, said, “God bless you, asthore, for thim words! and they're thrue--thrue as the gospel, arrah what are you both so proud of? I defy you to get the aquil of my son in the barony of Lisnamona, either for face, figure or temper! I say he's fit to be a husband for as good a gill as ever stood in your daughter's shoes; an' from what I hear of her, she's as good a girl as ever the Almighty put breath in. God bless you, young man, you're a credit yourself to any parents.” “An' we have nothin' to say aginst your son, nor aginst your wife aither,” replied the Bodagh; “an' if your own name was as clear----if you wor looked upon as they are--tut, I'm spakin' nonsense! How do I know whether ever your son and my daughter spoke a word to one another or not?” “I'll go bail Oona never opened her lips to him,” said her mother; “I'll go bail she had more spirit.” “An' I'll go bail she can't live widout him, an' will have him whether you like it or not,” said Fardorougha. “Mother,” observed John, “will you and my father come into the next room for a minute--I wish to say a word or two to each of you; and will you, Fardorougha, have the goodness to sit here till we return?” “Divil a notion,” replied O'Donovan, “I have of stirrin' my foot till the thing's settled one way or other.”