“Bedad, sir,” said Phelim, “we never thought o' that. All the world knows, your Reverence, that I might carry my purse in my eye, an' never feel a mote in it. But the thruth is, sir, she was so lively on the subject--in a kind of a pleasant, coaxin' hurry of her own--an' indeed I was so myself, too. Augh, Mrs. Doran! Be gorra, sir, she put her comedher an me entirely, so she did. Well, be my sowl, I'll be the flower of a husband to her anyhow. I hope your Reverence 'll come to the christ'nin'? But about the clo'es;--bad luck saize the tack I have to put to my back, but what you see an me, if we wor to be married to-morrow.” “Well, Phelim, aroon,” said Mrs. Doran, “his Reverence here has my little pences o' money in his hands, an' the best way is for you to get the price of a suit from him. You must get clo'es, an' good ones, too, Phelim, sooner nor any stop should be put to our marriage.” “Augh, Mrs. Doran,” said Phelim, ogling her from the safe eye, with a tender suavity of manner that did honor to his heart; “be gorra, ma'am, you've played the puck entirely wid me. Faith, I'm gettin' fonder an' fonder of her every minute, your Reverence.” He set his eye, as he uttered this, so sweetly and significantly upon the old house-keeper, that the priest thought it a transgression of decorum in his presence. “I think,” said he, “you had better keep your melting looks to yourself, Phelim. Restrain your gallantry, if you please, at least until I withdraw.” “Why, blood alive! sir, when people's fond of one another, it's hard to keep the love down. Augh, Mrs. Doran! Faith, you've rendhored my heart like a lump o' tallow.” “Follow me to the parlor,” said the priest, “and let me know, Bridget, what sum I am to give to this melting gallant of yours.” “I may as well get what'll do the weddin' at wanst,” observed Phelim. “It'll save throuble, in the first place; an' sackinly, it'll save time; for, plase Goodness, I'll have everything ready for houldin' the weddin' the Monday afther the last call. By the hole o' my coat, the minute I get the clo'es we'll be spliced, an' thin for the honeymoon!” “How much money shall I give him?” said the priest. “Indeed, sir, I think you ought to know that; I'm ignorant o' what 'ud make a dacent weddin'. We don't intend to get married undher a hedge; we've frinds an both sides, an' of course, we must have them about us, plase Goodness.” “Be gorra, sir, it's no wondher I'm fond of her, the darlin'? Bad win to you, Mrs. Doran, how did you come over me at all?” “Bridget,” said the priest, “I have asked you a simple question, to which I expect a plain answer. What money am I to give this tallow-hearted swain of yours?” “Why, your Reverence, whatsomever you think may be enough for full, an' plinty, an' dacency, at the weddin'.” “Not forgetting the thatch for me, in the mane time,” said Phelim. “Nothin' less will sarve us, plase your Reverence. Maybe, sir, you'd think 'of comin' to the weddin' yourself?”