"And sarve you right, you dirty cur," said his mother. "I ran off like a fool when I heerd of your good fortune, and see the condition that baggage left me in--my teeth knocked in and my eye knocked out, and all for your foolery, because you couldn't keep what you got."

"Sure, mother, I tell you--"

"Howld your tongue, you _omadhaun!_ And then I go to Squire O'Grady's to look for you, and there I hear you lost _that_ place, too."

"Faix, it's little loss," said Andy.

"That's all you know about it, you goose; you lose the place just when the man's dead and you'd have had a shuit o' mournin'. Oh, you are the most misfortunate divil, Andy Rooney, this day in Ireland--why did I rear you at all?"

"Squire O'Grady dead!" said Andy, in surprise and also with regret for his late master.

"Yis--and you've lost the mournin'--augh!"

"Oh, the poor Squire!" said Andy.

"The iligant new clothes!" grumbled Mrs. Rooney. "And then luck tumbles into your way such as man never had; without a place, or a rap to bless yourself with, you get a rich man's daughter for your wife, and you let her slip through your fingers."

"How could I help it?" said Andy.

"Augh!--you bothered the job just the way you do everything," said his mother.

"Sure I was civil-spoken to her."

"Augh!" said his mother.

"And took no liberty."

"You goose!"

"And called her Miss."

"Oh, indeed you missed it altogether."

"And said I wasn't desarvin' of her."

"That was thrue--_but you should not have towld her so_. Make a woman think you're betther than her, and she'll like you."

"And sure, when I endayvoured to make myself agreeable to her----"

"_Endayvoured_!" repeated the old woman contemptuously. "_Endayvoured_, indeed! Why didn't you _make_ yourself agreeable at once, you poor dirty goose?--no, but you went sneaking about it--I know as well as if I was looking at you--you went sneakin' and snivelin' until the girl took a disgust to you; for there's nothing a woman despises so much as shilly-shallying."

"Sure, you won't hear my defince," said Andy.

"Oh, indeed you're betther at defince than attack," said his mother.

"Sure, the first little civil'ty I wanted to pay to her, she took up the three-legged stool to me."

"The divil mend you! And what civil'ty did you offer her?"

"I made a grab at her cap, and I thought she'd have brained me."

Oonah set up such a shout of laughter at Andy's notion of civility to a girl, that the conversation was stopped for some time, and her aunt remonstrated with her at her want of common sense; or, as she said, hadn't she "more decency than to laugh at the poor fool's nonsense?"

"What could I do agen the three-legged stool?" said Andy.

"Where was your _own_ legs, and your own arms, and your own eyes, and your own tongue?--eh?"

"And sure I tell you it was all ready conthrived, and James Casey was sent for, and came."

"Yis," said the mother, "but not for a long time, you towld me yourself; and what were you doing all that time? Sure, supposing you _wor_ only a new acquaintance, any man worth a day's mate would have discoorsed her over in the time and made her sinsible he was the best of husbands."

"I tell you she wouldn't let me have her ear at all," said Andy. "Nor her cap either," said Oonah, laughing.

"And then Jim Casey kem."

"And why did you let him in?"

"It was _she_ let him in, I tell you."

"And why did you let her? He was on the wrong side of the door--that's the _outside_; and you on the right--that's the _inside_; and it was _your_ house, and she was _your_ wife, and you were her masther, and you had the rights of the church, and the rights of the law, and all the rights on your side; barrin' right rayson--that you never had; and sure without _that_, what's the use of all the other rights in the world?"

"Sure, hadn't he his friends, _sthrong_, outside?"

"No matther, if the door wasn't opened to them, for _then_ YOU would have had a stronger friend than any o' them present among them."

"Who?" inquired Andy.

"The _hangman_" answered his mother; "for breaking doors is hanging matther; and I say the presence of the hangman's always before people when they have such a job to do, and makes them think twice sometimes before they smash once; and so you had only to keep one woman's hands quiet."

"Faix, some of them would smash a door as soon as not," said Andy.

"Well, then, you'd have the satisfaction of hanging them," said the mother, "and that would be some consolation. But even as it is, I'll have law for it--I will--for the property is yours, any how, though the girl is gone--and indeed a brazen baggage she is, and is mighty heavy in the hand. Oh, my poor eye!--it's like a coal of fire--but sure it was worth the risk living with her for the sake of the purty property. And sure I was thinkin' what a pleasure it would be living with you, and tachin' your wife housekeepin', and bringing up the young turkeys and the childhre--but, och hone, you'll never do a bit o' good, you that got sitch careful bringin' up, Andy Rooney! Didn't I tache you manners, you dirty hanginbone blackguard? Didn't I tache you your blessed religion?--may the divil sweep you! Did I ever prevent you from sharing the lavings of the pratees with the pig?--and didn't you often clane out the pot with him?

and you're no good afther all. I've turned my honest penny by the pig, but I'll never make my money of _you_, Andy Rooney!"

There was some minutes' silence after this eloquent outbreak of Andy's mother, which was broken at last by Andy uttering a long sigh and an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

"Och? it's a fine thing to be a gintleman," said Andy.

"c.o.c.k you up!" said his mother. "Maybe it's a gintleman you want to be; what puts that in your head, you _omadhaun_?"

"Why, because a gintleman has no hardships, compared with one of uz. Sure, if a gintleman was married, his wife wouldn't be tuk off from him the way mine was."

"Not so soon, maybe," said the mother, drily.

"And if a gintleman brakes a horse's heart, he's only a '_bowld rider_,' while a poor sarvant is a 'careless blackguard' for only taking a sweat out of him. If a gintleman dhrinks till he can't see a hole in a laddher, he's only '_feesh_--but '_dhrunk_' is the word for a poor man. And if a gintleman kicks up a row, he's a 'fine sperited fellow,' while a poor man is a 'disordherly vagabone' for the same; and the Justice axes the one to dinner and sends th' other to jail.

Oh, faix, the law is a dainty lady; she takes people by the hand who can afford to wear gloves, but people with brown fists must keep their distance."

"I often remark," said his mother, "that fools spake mighty sinsible betimes; but their wisdom all goes with their gab. Why didn't you take a betther grip of your luck when you had it? You're wishing you wor a gintleman, and yet when you had the best part of a gintleman (the property, I mane) put into your way, you let it slip through your fingers; and afther lettin' a fellow take a rich wife from you and turn you out of your own house, you sit down on a stool there, and begin to _wish_ indeed!--you sneakin' fool--wish, indeed! Och! if you wish with one hand, and wash with th' other, which will be clane first--eh?"