s Lanigan, the cook, 'I must go and see what
I can do.' He then went upstairs, and contrived to give her a hint, and
that was enough. 'The Lord bless us, Mr. Reilly, what won't love do?
This girl--as Lanigan tould me--that the villain Whitecraft had sent as
a spy upon her actions, was desired to go to her wardrobe, to pick out
from among her beautiful dresses one that she had promised her as a
present some days before. The cook had this from the girl herself, who
was the sarra for dress; but, anyhow, while the the spy was tumbling
about _Cooleen Bawn_'s dresses, the darlin' herself whipped downstairs,
and coming to me says, 'The cook tells me you have a message for
me.' Jist at this moment, and after she had slipped the letter into
her bosom, her father turns a corner round the garden, and seeing his
daughter, which was a very unusual thing, in conversation with a person
like myself, he took the alarm at once. 'How, Helen? who is this you
are speaking to'? No go-between, I hope? Who are you, you blasted old
she-whelp?' 'I am no more a she-whelp than you are.' 'Then maybe you are
a he one in disguise. What brought you here?' 'Here! I came to sell
my eggs and my chickens, as I done for years.' 'Your eggs and your
chickens! curse you, you old Jezebel, did you ever lay the eggs or hatch
the chickens? And if you did, why not produce the old cock himself, in
proof of the truth of what you say? I'll have you searched, though, in
spite of your eggs and chickens. Here,' he said to one of the footmen,
who was passing through the hall--'here, Jones, send up Lanigan, till we
see whether he knows this old faggot, who has the assurance to tell me
that she lays eggs and hatches chickens.' When Lanigan came up again,
he looked at me as at an old acquaintance, which, in point of fact, we
were. 'Why, your honor,' said he, 'this is a poor, honest creature that
has been selling us eggs and chickens for many years.' 'She wouldn't be
a go-between, Lanigan--eh? What's your name, you old faggot--eh?'
'My name | is Scrahag, your honor,' says I, 'one of the Scrahags of
Ballycumpiatee--an honest and dacint family, sir; but if your honor
would buy the eggs, at any rate, and hatch them yourself,' says I to him
(for she had a large stock of Irish humor), 'you know, sir, you could
have the chickens at first cost.' 'Ha, ha, ha,' and the squire laughed
till he nearly split his sides; 'by --- I'm hit'--God pardon me for
repeatin' his oaths. 'Here, Lanigan