"Faix, an' he ought to know you betther than that," said the tinker; "for you'd make a fair offer[17] at anything, I think, but an answer to your schoolmasther. Oh, a nate lad you are--a nate lad!--a nice clargy you'll be, your _rivirence_. Oh, if you hit off the tin commandments as fast as you hit off the tin weathercock, it's a good man you'll be--an' if I never had a headache till then, sure it's happy I'd be!" [17] A "fair offer" is a phrase amongst the Irish peasantry, meaning a successful aim. "Hold your prate, old Growly," said Ratty; "and why don't you mend the weathercock?" "I must mend the kittle first--and a purty kittle you made of it!--and would nothing sarve you but the best kittle in the house to tie to the dog's tail? Ah, Masther Ratty, you're terrible boys, so yiz are!" "Hold your prate, you old thief!--why wouldn't we amuse ourselves?" "And huntin' the poor dog, too." "Well, what matter!--he was a strange dog." "That makes no differ in the _crulety_." "Ah, bother! you old humbug!--who was it blackened the rag-woman's eye?--ha! Fogy--ha! Fogy--dirty Fogy!" "Go away, Masther Ratty, you're too good, so you are, your rivirince. Faix, I wondher his honour, the Squire, doesn't murdher you sometimes." "He would, if he could catch us," replied Ratty, "but we run too fast for him, so divil thank him!--and you, too, Fogy,--ha, old Growly! Come along, Mr. Furlong, here's Gusty;--bad scran to you, Fogy!" and he slammed the door as he quitted the tinker.