"The divil doubt him, what a fool he'd be!" said Mrs. Twomey with a
bitter laugh. "Aren't they all sayin' as sure as gun is iron it's what
he wants that he'll see his daughter in Coppinger's Court before he
dies!"
"What nonsense!" said Miss Coppinger, warmly; "I should like to know
who is saying it!"
Mrs. Twomey, milking ceaselessly, slewed her head a little and looked
at her employer out of the corner of an eye as bright and as cunning
as a hen's, and said: "As rich as your Honour is, you couldn't put a
penny into the mouth of every man that's sayin' it!"
"I'm surprised at you, Mary," said Frederica, indignantly, "You ought
to have more sense than to repeat such rubbish!"
To this reproach, Mrs. Twomey responded with a long and jubilant crow
of laughter.
"Yerra, gerr'l alive--!" she corrected herself quickly. "My lady
alive, I should say--sure a little thing like me'd tell lies as fast
as a hen'd pick peas!"
The modesty, as well as the accuracy, of this statement silenced Miss
Coppinger for a moment.
"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" she resumed with much
severity. "It is amazing to me how a decent, respectable little woman
like you can not only tell lies, but boast of it!"
"Ah ha! I'm the same owld three and fourpince, an' will be till I
die!" triumphed Mrs. Twomey, with another screech of laughter,
removing her tiny person, her milk-pail, and her stool from under the
cow.
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