I'm glad you axed me, so I am--for only you seen
the pinance in my face, you'd never suppose sich a thing. I want to make
my confishion to him, wid the help o' Goodness."

"Is there any news goin', Phelim?"

"Divil a much, barrin' what you hard yourself, I suppose, about Frank
Fogarty, that went mad yesterday, for risin' the meal on the poor, an'
ate the ears off himself afore anybody could see him."

"_Vick na hoiah_, Phelim; do you tell me so?"

"Why man o' Moses, is it possible you did not hear it, ma'am?"

"Oh, worra, man alive, not a syllable! Ate the ears off of himself!
Phelim, acushla, see what it is to be hard an the poor!"

"Oh, he was ever an' always the biggest nagar livin', ma'am. Ay, an'
when he was tied up, till a blessed priest 'ud be brought to maliwgue
the divil out of him, he got a scythe an' cut his own two hands off."

"No thin, Phelim!"

"Faitha, ma'am, sure enough. I suppose, ma'am, you hard about Biddy
Duignan?"

"Who is she, Phelim?"

"Why the misfortunate crathurs a daughter of her father's, ould Mick
Duignan, of Tavenimore."

"An' what about her, Phehm! What happened her?"

"Faix, ma'am, a bit of a mistake she met wid; but, anyhow, ould Harry
Connolly's to stand in the chapel nine Sundays, an' to make three
Stations to Lough Dergh for it. Bedad, they say it's as purty a crathur
as you'd see in a day's thravellin'."

"Harry Connolly! Why, I know Harry, but I never heard of Biddy Duiguan,
or her father at all. Harry Connolly! Is it a man that's bent over his
staff for the last twenty years! Hut, tut, Phelim, don't say sich a
thing."

"Why, ma'am, sure he takes wid it himself; he doesn't deny it at all,
the ould sinner."

"Oh, that I mayn't sin, Phelim, if one knows who to thrust in this
world, so they don't. Why the desateful ould--hut, Phelim, I can't give
into it."

"Faix, ma'am, no wondher; but sure when he confesses it himself! Bedad,
Mrs. Doran, I never seen you look so well. Upon my sowl, you'd take the
shine out o' the youngest o' thim!"

"Is it me, Phelim? Why, you're beside yourself."

"Beside myself, am I? Faith, an' if I am, what I said's thruth, anyhow.
I'd give more nor I'll name, to have so red a pair of cheeks as you
have. Sowl, they're thumpers."

"Ha, ha, ha! Oh, that I mayn't sin, but that's a good joke! An ould
woman near sixty!"

"Now, Mrs. Doran, that's nonsense, an' nothing else. Near sixty! Oh, by
my purty, that's runnin' away wid the story enti