“Wid every pleasure in life, sir, for it's but a fair question to put. An' sure, it is to God we owe it, whatever it is, plase your honor. But, sir, if we get the land, we're able to stock it, an' to crop it well an' dacently; an' if your honor would allow us for sartin improvements, sir, we'd run it into snug fields, by plantin' good hedges, an' gettin' up shelther for the outlyin' cattle in the hard seasons, plase your honor, and you know the farm is very naked and bare of shelter at present.” “Sowl, will we, sir, an' far more nor that if we get it. I'll undhertake, sir, to level”-- “No, Pether, we'll promise no more nor we'll do; but anything that his honor will be plased to point out to us, if we get fair support, an' that it remains on the farm afther us, we'll be willin' to do it.” “Willin'!” exclaimed Peter!--“faith, whether we're willin' or not, if his honor but says the word”---- “Mrs. Connell,” said their landlord, “say no more. The farm is yours, and you may, consider yourselves as my tenants.” “Many thanks to you, sir, for the priference. I hope, sir, you'll not rue what you did in givin' it to us before them that offered a higher rint. You'll find, sir, wid the help o' the Almighty, that we'll pay you your rint rigular an' punctual.” “Why, thin, long life, an' glory, an' benedication to your honor! Faith, it's only kind father for you, sir, to be what you are. The divil resave the family in all Europe”-- “Peter, that will do,” replied the landlord, “it would be rather hazardous for our family to compete with all Europe. Go home, Peter, and be guided by your wife, who has more sense in her little finger than ever your family had either in Europe or out of it, although I mean you no offense by going beyond Europe.” “By all the books that never wor opened an' shut,” replied Peter, with the intuitive quickness of perception peculiar to Irishmen, “an innocenter boy than Andy Connell never was sent acrass the water. I proved as clear an alibi for him as the sun in the firmanent; an' yit, bad luck to the big-wig O'Grady, he should be puttin' in his leek an me afore the jury, jist whin I had the poor boy cleared out dacently, an' wid all honor. An' bedad, now, that we're spakin about it, I'll tell your honor the whole conclusions of it. You see, sir, the Agint was shot one night; an' above all nights in the year, your honor, a thief of a toothache that I had kep me”-- “Pether, come away, abouchal: his honor kaows as much about it as you do, Come, aroon; you know we must help to scald an' scrape the pig afore night, an' it's late now.” “Bodad, sir, she's a sweet one, this.” “Be guided by her, Peter, if you're wise, she's a wife you ought to be proud of.” “Thrue for you, sir; divil resave the word o' lie in that, any how. Come, Ellish; come, you deludher, I'm wid you.” “God bless your honor, sir, an' we're ob'laged to you for you kindness an' patience wid the likes o' us.”