“Hut, tut, Paddy! She's a good colleen enough; but do you think she's above any one that carries the name of O'Toole upon him? Still, it's but raisonable for you to wish the girl well settled. My Phelim will have one half o' my worldly goods, at all evints.” “Name them, Larry, if you plase.” “Why, he'll have one o' the goats--the gray one, for she's the best o' the two, in throth. He'll have two stools; three hens, an' a toss-up for the cock. The biggest o' the two pots; two good crocks; three good wooden trenchers, an'--hem--he'll have his own--I say, Paddy, are you listenin' to me?--Phelim, do you hear what I'm givin' you, _a veehonee?--his own bed!_ An' there's all I can or will do for him. Now do you spake up for Peggy.” “I'm to have my own bedstead too,” said Phelim, “an' bad cess to the stouter one in Europe. It's as good this minute as it was eighteen years agone.” “Paddy Donovan, spake up,” said Larry. “Spake up!” said Paddy, contemptuously. “Is it for three crowns' worth I'd spake up? The bedstead, Phelim! _Bedhu husth_, (* hold your tongue) man!” “Put round the bottle,” said Phelim, “we're dhry here.” “Thrue enough, Phelim,” said the father. “Paddy, here's towarst you an' yours--nabors--all your healths--young couple! Paddy, give us your hand, man alive! Sure, whether we agree or not, this won't put between us.” “Throth, it won't, Larry--an' I'm thankful to you. Your health, Larry, an' all your healths! Phelim an' Peggy, success to yez, whether or not! An' now, in regard o' your civility, I will spake up. My proposal is this:--I'll put down guinea for guinea wid you.” Now we must observe, by the way, that this was said under the firm conviction that neither Phelim nor the father had a guinea in their possession. “I'll do that same, Paddy,” said Larry; “but I'll lave it to the present company, if you're not bound to put down the first guinea. Nabors, amn't I right?” “You are right, Larry,” said Burn; “it's but fair that Paddy should put down the first.” “Molly, achora,” said Donovan to the wife, who, by the way, was engaged in preparing the little feast usual on such occasions--“Molly, achora, give me that ould glove you have in your pocket.” She immediately handed him an old shammy glove, tied up into a hard knot, which he felt some difficulty in unloosing. “Come, Larry,” said he, laying down a guinea-note, “cover that like a man.” “Phelim carries my purse,” observed the father; but he had scarcely spoken when the laughter of the company rang loudly through the house--The triumph of Donovan appeared to be complete, for he thought the father's alusion to Phelim tantamount to an evasion. “Phelim! Phelim carries it! Faix, an' I, doubt he finds it a light burdyeen.” Phelim approached in all his glory. “What am I to do?” he inquired, with a swagger. “You're to cover that guinea-note wid a guinea, if you can,” said Donovan.