into the kitchen to ax, you know, how was her aunt's family up
in Skelgy, when who should I find before me in it but Sally an' Miss
Una--(hiccup). (Saver of earth this night! from Fardorougha.) Of coorse
I shook hands wid her--wid Sally, I mane; an', 'Sally,' says I, 'I was
sent in wid a message from the masther to you; he's in the haggard an'
wants you.' So, begad, on---(hiccup) out she goes, an' the coast bein'
clear, 'Miss Una,' says I, 'here's a scrap of a letther from Misther
Connor O'Donovan; read it, and if you can write him an answer, do; if
you haven't time say whatever you have to say by me.' She go--(hiccup)
she got all colors when I handed it to her; an' run away, say--in' to
me, 'wait for a while, an' don't go till I see you.' In a minute or
two Sally comes in agin as mad as the dickens wid me, 'The curse o' the
crows an' you!' says she, 'why did you make me run a fool's erran' for
no rason? The masther wasn't in the haggard, an' didn't want me good or
bad.'"

"Bartle," said the impatient lover, "pass all that over for the present,
an' let us know the answer, if she sent any."

"Sent any! be my sowl, she did so! Afther readin' your letther, an'
findin' that she could depind on me, she said that for fear of any
remarks bein' made about my waitin', espishally as I live at present
in this family, it would be better she thought to answer it by word o'
mouth. 'Tell him,' said she, 'that I didn't think he wa--(hiccup) (Queen
o' heaven!) was so dull an' ignorant o' the customs of the country, as
not to know that whin young people want to see one another they stay
away from mass wid an expectation that'--begad, I disremimber exactly
her own words; but it was as much as to say that she staid at home on
last Sunday expectin' to see you."

"Well, but Bartle, what else?--short an' sweet, man."

"Why, she'll meet you on next Thursday night, God willin', in the same
place; an' whin I axed her where, she said you knew it yourself."

"An' is that all?"

"No, it's not all; she sed it 'ud be better to mention the thing to
her father. Afther thinkin' it over she says, 'as your father has the
na--(hiccup) '(Saints above!) the name of being so rich, she doesn't
know if a friend 'ud interfere but his consint might be got;' an' that's
all I have to say about it, barrin' that she's a very purty girl, an' I'd
advise you not to be too sure of her yet, Bartle. So now I'm for the
barn--Good night, Far--(hiccup) (at my cost, you