y
not? Who'd be for the shabby thing?"

"Well, well, Larry, I can't say but you're right afther all! Maybe I'd
do the same thing myself, for all I'm spakin' aginst it."

The old people then passed round an introductory glass, after which they
chatted away for an hour or so, somewhat like the members of a committee
who talk upon indifferent topics until their brethren are all assembled.

Phelim, in the meantime, grappled with the daughter, whose knitting he
spoiled by hooking the thread with his finger, jogging her elbow until
he ran the needles past each other, and finally unravelling her clew;
all which she bore with great good-humor. Sometimes, indeed, she
ventured to give him a thwack upon the shoulder, with a laughing frown
upon her countenance, in order to correct him for teasing her.

When Jemmy Burn and Antony Devlin arrived, the spirits of the party got
up. The whiskey was formally produced, but as yet the subject of the
courtship, though perfectly understood, was not introduced. Phelim and
the father were anxious to await the presence of Sam Appleton, who was
considered, by the way, a first-rate hand at match-making.

Phelim, as is the wont, on finding the din of the conversation raised
to the proper pitch, stole one of the bottles and prevailed on Peggy to
adjourn with him to the potato-bin. Here they ensconced themselves very
snugly; but not, as might be supposed, contrary to the knowledge and
consent of the seniors, who winked at each other on seeing Phelim
gallantly tow her down with the bottle under his arm. It was only
the common usage on such occasions, and not considered any violation
whatsoever of decorum. When Phelim's prior engagements are considered,
it must be admitted that there was something singularly ludicrous in
the humorous look he gave over his shoulder at the company, as he went
toward the bin, having the bottom of the whiskey-bottle projecting
behind his elbow, winking at them in return, by way of a hint to mind
their own business and allow him to plead for himself. The bin, however,
turned out to be rather an uneasy seat, for as the potatoes lay in
a slanting heap against the wall, Phelim and his sweetheart were
perpetually sliding down from the top to the bottom. Phelim could be
industrious when it suited his pleasure. In a few minutes those who sat
about the fire imagined, from the noise at the bin, that the house was
about to come about their ears.

"Phelim, you thief," said the