“No, in troth, Ellish, I would be long sarry to do it. It's displasin' to you, achree, an' I won't say it. God spare you to us! It was you put the bone in us, an' that's what all the country says, big an' little, young and ould; an' God He knows it's truth, and nothin' else.” “Indeed, no, thin, Pether, it's not altogether thruth, you desarve your full share of it. You backed me well, acushla, in everything, an' if you had been a dhrinkin', idle, rollikin' vagabone, what 'ud signify all, that me or the likes o' me could do.” “Faith, an' it was you made me what I am, Ellish; you tuck the soft side o' me, you beauty; an' it's well you did, for by this--hem, upon my reputation, if you had gone to cross purposes with me you'd find yourself in the wrong box. An', you phanix of beauty, you managed the childhre, the crathurs, the same way--an' a good way it is, in throth.” “Pether, wor you ever thinkin' o' Father Muloahy's sweetness to us of late?” “No, thin, the sorra one o' me thought of it. Why, Ellish?” “Didn't you obsarve that for the last three or four months he's full of attintions to us? Every Sunday he brings you up, an' me, if I'd go, to the althar,--an' keeps you there by way of showin' you respect. Pether, it's not you, but your money he respects; an' I think there ought to be no respect o' persons in the chapel, any how. You're not a bit nearer God by bein' near the althar; for how do we know but the poorest crathur there is nearer to heaven than we are!” “Faith, sure enough, Ellish; but what deep skame are you penethratin' now, you desaver?” “I'd lay my life, you'll have a proposial o' marriage from Father Mulcahy, atween our Dan an' Miss Granua. For many a day he's hintin' to us, from time to time, about the great offers she had; now what's the rason, if she had these great offers, that he didn't take them?” “Bedad, Ellish, you're the greatest headpiece in all Europe. Murdher alive, woman, what a fine counsellor you'd make. An' suppose he did offer, Ellish, what 'ud you be sayin' to him?” “Why, that 'ud depind entirely upon what he's able to give her--they say he has money. It 'ud depind, too, upon whether Dan has any likin' for her or not.” “He's often wid her, I know; an' I needn't tell you, Ellish, that afore we wor spliced together, I was often wid somebody that I won't mintion. At all evints, he has made Dan put the big O afore the Connell, so that he has him now full namesake to the Counsellor; an', faith, that itself' 'ud get him a wife.” “Well, the best way is to say nothin', an' to hear nothin', till his Reverence spates out, an' thin we'll see what can be done.” Ellish's sagacity had not misled her. In a few months afterwards Father Mulcahy was asked by young Dan Connell to dine; and as he and holiest Ellish were sitting together, in the course of the evening, the priest broached the topic as follows:--