lible means, that the old woman was between
the sheets.

Each party knew the tricks of the other; and yet, taking it all in all,
the widow got on very well with her children, and everybody said what
a good mother she had been: she was accustomed to use deceit, and was
therefore not disgusted by it in others. Whether the system of domestic
manners which I have described is one likely to induce to sound
restraint and good morals is a question which I will leave to be
discussed by writers on educational points.

However Meg managed it, she did contrive that her mother should not go
near the little parlour this Sunday morning, and Anty was left alone,
to receive her lover's visit. I regret to say that he was long in
paying it. He loitered about the chapel gates before he came home; and
seemed more than usually willing to talk to anyone about anything. At
last, however, just as Meg was getting furious, he entered the inn.

"Why, Martin, you born ideot--av' she ain't waiting for you this hour
and more!"

"Thim that's long waited for is always welcome when they do come,"
replied Martin.

"Well afther all I've done for you! Are you going in now?--cause, av'
you don't, I'll go and tell her not to be tasing herself about you.
I'll neither be art or part in any such schaming."

"Schaming, is it, Meg? Faith, it'd be a clever fellow'd beat you at
that," and, without waiting for his sister's sharp reply, he walked
into the little room where Anty was sitting.

"So, Anty, you wouldn't come to mass?" he began.

"Maybe I'll go next Sunday," said she.

"It's a long time since you missed mass before, I'm thinking."

"Not since the Sunday afther father's death."

"It's little you were thinking then how soon you'd be stopping down
here with us at the inn."

"That's thrue for you, Martin, God knows."

At this point of the conversation Martin stuck fast: he did not know
Rosalind's recipe [29] for the difficulty a man feels, when he finds
himself gravelled for conversation with his mistress; so he merely
scratched his head, and thought hard to find what he'd say next. I
doubt whether the conviction, which was then strong on his mind, that
Meg was listening at the keyhole to every word that passed, at all
assisted him in the operation. At last, some Muse came to his aid, and
he made out another sentence.

[FOOTNOTE 29: Rosalind's recipe--In _As You Like It_, Act III,
Sc. ii, Rosalind, disguised as a youn