ood,
but, at the same time, Mr. Burke, a trifle too plebeian for Hycy the
accomplished."

"I tell you she's a devilish sight too good for you; and if you don't
marry her, you'll never get such a wife."

"Troth," answered Mrs. Burke, "I think myself there's something over
you, or you wouldn't spake as you do--a wife for Hycy--one of Gerald
Cavanagh's daughters make a wife for him!--not while I'm alive at any
rate, plaise God."

"While you're alive; well, may be not:--but sure if it plases God to
bring it about, on your own plan, I must endaivor to be contented,
Rosha; ay, an' how do you know but I'd dance at their weddin' too!
ha! ha! ha!"

"Oh, then, it's you that's the bitther pill, Jemmy Burke! but, thank
God, I disregard you at all events. It's little respect you pay to my
feelings, or ever did."

"I trust, my most amiable mother, that you won't suffer the equability
of your temper to be disturbed by anything proceeding from such an
antiphlogistic source. Allow me to say, Mr. Burke, that I have higher
game in view, and that for the present I must beg respectfully to
decline the proposal which you so kindly made, fully sensible as I am
of the honor you intended for me. If you will only exercise a little
patience, however, perhaps I shall have the pleasure ere long of
presenting to you a lady of high accomplishments, amiable manners, and
very considerable beauty."

"Not a 'Crazy Jane' bargain, I hope?"

"Really, Mr. Burke, you are pleased to be sarcastic; but as for honest
Katsey, have the goodness to take her out of your eye as soon as
possible, for she only blinds you to your own interest and to mine."

"You wouldn't marry Kathleen, then?"

"For the present I say most assuredly not," replied the son, in the same
ironical and polite tone.

"Because," continued his father, with a very grave smile, in which there
was, to say truth, a good deal of the grin visible, "as poor Gerald was
a good deal anxious about the matther, I said I'd try and make you marry
her--_to oblige him_."

Hycy almost, if not altogether, lost his equanimity by the contemptuous
sarcasm implied in these words. "Father," said he, to save trouble, and
to prevent you and me both from thrashing the wind in this manner, I
think it right to tell you that I have no notion of marrying such a girl
as Cavanagh's daughter."

"No," continued his mother, "nor if you had, I wouldn't suffer it."

"Very well," said the father; "is that your mind?"