n, he thought the simple, thrifty, and
industrious habits of a plain farmer's daughter more likely to conduce
to his happiness and _profit_--for in that principally lay the aforesaid
happiness of Mr. Flanagan. Now, this intention of honouring one of the
three Miss Rileys with promotion he never hinted at in the remotest
degree, and even in his own mind the thought was mixed up with fat
cattle and prices current; and it was not until a leisure moment one
day, when he was paying Mat Riley for some of his farming produce, that
he broached the subject thus:

"Mat." "Sir."

"I'm thinking o' marrying."

"Well, she'll have a snug house, whoever she is, Misther Flanagan."

"Them's fine girls o' yours."

Poor Mat opened his eyes with delight at the prospect of such a match
for one of his daughters, and said they were "comely lumps o' girls,
sure enough; but, what was betther, they wor good."

"That's what I'm thinking," says Flanagan. "There's two ten-poun'
notes, and a five, and one is six, and one is seven; and three tenpinnies
is two-and-sixpence; that's twenty-seven poun' two-and-sixpence:
eight-pence-ha'penny is the lot; but I haven't copper in my company,
Mat."

"Oh, no matther, Misther Flanagan. And is it one o' my colleens you've
been throwing the eye at, sir?"

"Yes, Mat, it is. You're askin' too much for them firkins?"

"Oh, Misther Flanagan, consider it's prime butther. I'll back my girls
for making up a bit o' butther agen any girls in Ireland; and my cows
is good, and the pasture prime."

"'T is a farthing a poun' too high, Mat; and the market not lively."

"The butther is good, Mr. Flanagan; and not decenther girls in Ireland
than the same girls, though I'm their father."

"I'm thinking I'll marry one o' them, Mat."

"Sure, an' it's proud I'll be, sir; and which o' them is it, maybe?"

"Faith, I don't know myself, Mat. Which do you think yourself?"

"Throth, myself doesn't know--they're all good. Nance is nice, and
Biddy's biddable, and Kitty's cute."

"You're a snug man, Mat; you ought to be able to give a husband a
trifle with them."

"Nothing worth _your_ while, anyhow, Misther Flanagan. But sure one o'
my girls without a rag to her back, or a tack to her feet, would be
betther help to an honest industherin' man than one o' your showy
lantherumswash divils out of a town, that would spend more than she'd
bring with her."

"That's thrue, Mat. I'll marry one o' your girls, I think."

"You'l