appropriate
keeping with the characters of honest, candid Jemmy and Cooney?

"And now," proceeded Cooney, "regard-in' this match between your
youngest daughter Margaret, and my son Toal."

"Why, as for myself," replied Murray, "sorra much of objection I have
aginst it, barrin' his figure; if he was about a foot and a half
higher, and a little betther made--God pardon me, an' blessed be the
maker--there would, at all events, be less difficulty in the business,
especially with Peggy herself."

"But couldn't you bring her about?"

"I did my endayvors, Cooney; you may take my word I did."

"Well, an' is she not softenin' at all?"

"Upon my sounds, Cooney, I cannot say she is. If I could only get her to
spake one sairious word on the subject, I might have some chance; but I
cannot, Cooney; I think both you an' little Toal had betther give it up.
I doubt there's no chance."

"Faith an' the more will be her loss. I tell you, Jemmy, that he'd outdo
either you or me as a meal man. What more would you want?"

"He's cute enough, I know that."

"I tell you you don't know the half of it. It's the man that can make
the money for her that you want."

"But aginst that, you know, it's Peggy an' not me that's to marry him.
Now, you know that women often--though not always, I grant--wish to
have something in the appearance of their husband that they needn't be
ashamed to look at."

"That's the only objection that can bo brought against him. He's the boy
can make the money; I'm a fool to him. I'll tell you what, Jemmy Murray,
may I never go home, but he'd skin a flint. Did you hear anything? Now!"

Murray, who appeared to be getting somewhat tired of this topic, replied
rather hastily--

"Why, Cooney Finnigan, if he could skin the devil himself and ait him
afterwards, she wouldn't have him. She has refused some of the best
looking young men in the parish, widout either rhyme or raison, an' I'm
sure she's not goin' to take your leprechaun of a son, that you might
run a five-gallon keg between his knees. Sure, bad luck to the thing his
legs resemble but a pair of raipin' hooks, wid their backs outwards. Let
us pass this subject, and come in till we drink a glass together."

"And so you call my son a leprechaun, and he has legs like raipin'
hooks!"

"Ha, ha, ha! Come in, man alive; never mind little Toal."

"Like raipin' hooks! I'll tell you what, Jemmy, I say now in sincerity,
that there is every prospect of a plentiful s