Bram Stoker: The Complete Novels. A to Z Classics

such matters lightly, but I don’t think I’m one of them. Whatever sins I have, or may ever have upon my soul, I hope such a one as that will never be there.”

      All the comment Andy made was, “I thought so.” Then the habitual quizzical look stole over his face again, and he said:

      “There does be some that does fear braches iv promise. Mind ye, a man has to be mighty careful on the subiect, for some weemin is that cute there’s no bein’ up to them”

      Andy’s sudden change to this new theme was a little embarrassing, since the idea leading to it — or rather preceding it — had been one purely personal to myself; but he was off, and I thought it better that he should go on.

      “Indeed!” said I.

      “Yes, surr. Oh my, but they’re cute. The first thing that a girrul does when a man looks twice at her, is t’ ask him to write her a letther, an’ thin she has him — tight.”

      “How so, Andy?”

      “Well, ye see, surr, when you’re writin’ a letther to a girrul, ye can’t begin widout a ‘My dear’ or a ‘Mydarlin’, an’ thin she has the grip iv the law onto ye! An’ ye do be badgered be the counsillors, an’ ye do be frowned at be the judge, an’ ye do be laughed at be the people, an’ ye do have to pay yer money, an’ there ye are!”

      “I say, Andy,” said I, “I think you must have been in trouble yourself in that way; you seem to have it all off pat.”

      “Oh, throth, not me, yer ‘an’r. Glory be to God! but I niver was a defindant in me life — an’ more betoken, I don’t want to be — but I was wance a witness in a case iv the kind.”

      “And what did you witness?”

      “Faix, I was called to prove that I seen the gintleman’s arrum around the girrul’s waist. The counsillors made a deal out iv that — just as if it warn’t only manners to hould up a girrul on a car!”

      “What was the case, Andy? Tell me all about it.”

      I did not mind his waiting, as it gave me an excuse for staying on the top of the hill. I knew I could easily get rid of him when she came — if she came — by sending him on a message.

      “Well, this was a young woman what had an action agin Shquire Murphy, iv Ballynashoughlin himself — a woman as was no more nor a mere simple governess!”

      It would be impossible to convey the depth of social unimportance conveyed by his tone and manner; and coming from a man of “shreds and patches,” it was more than comic. Andy had his good suit of frieze and homespun; but while he was on mountain duty, he spared these and appeared almost in the guise of a scarecrow.

      “Well, what happened?”

      “Faix, whin she tould her shtory the shquire’s councillor luked up at the jury, an’ he whispered a wurrd to the shquire and his ‘an’r wrote outa shlip iv paperan’ handed it to him, an’ the councillor ups an’ says he: ‘Me lard and gintlemin iv the jury, me client is prepared to have the honor iv the lady’s hand if she will so, for let by-gones be by-gones.’ An’, sure enough, they was married on the Sunday next four weeks; an’ there she is now dhrivin’ him about the counthry in her pony-shay, an’ all the quality comin’ to tay in the garden, an’ she as affable as iver to all the farmers round. Aye, an’ be the hokey, the shquire himself sez that it was a good day for him whin he sot eyes on her first, an’ that he don’t know why he was such a damn fool as iver to thry to say ‘no’ to her, or to wish it.”

      “Quite a tale with a moral, Andy. Bravo, Mrs. Murphy.”

      “A morial is it? Now, may I make bould to ask yer ‘an’r what morial ye take out iv it?”

      “The moral, Andy, that I see is, When you see the right woman go for her for all you’re worth, and thank God for giving you the chance.”

      Andy jumped up and gave me a great slap on the back.

      “Hurro! more power to yer elbow! but it’s a bhoy afther me own h’arrty’ are. I big yer pardon, surr, for the liberty; but it’s mighty glad l am.”

      “Granted, Andy; I like a man to be hearty, and you certainly are. But why are you so glad about me?”

      “Because I like yer ‘an’r. Shure in all me life I niver see so much iv a young gentleman as I’ve done iv yer ‘an’r. Surr, I’m an ould man compared wid ye — I’m the beginnin’ iv wan, at any rate — an’ I’d like to give ye a wurrd iv advice; git marrid while ye can! I tell ye this, surr, it’s not whin the hair is beginnin’ to git thin on to the top iv yer head that a nice young girrul ‘ill love ye for yerself. It’s the people that goes all their lives makin’ money and lukin’ after all kinds iv things that’s no kind iv use to thim, that makes the mishtake. Suppose ye do git marrid when ye’re ould and bald, an’ yer legs is shaky, an’ ye want to be let sit close to the fire in the warrum corner, an’ ye’ve lashins iv money that ye don’t know what to do wid! Do you think that it’s thin that yer wives does be dhramin’ iv ye all the time and worshippin’ the ground ye thrid? Not a bit iv it! They do be wantin’ — aye and thryin’ too — to help God away wid ye!”

      “Andy,” said I, “you preach, on a practical text, a sermon that any and every young man ought to hear.” I thought I saw an opening here for gaining some information, and at once jumped in.

      “By Jove! you set me off wishing to marry! Tell me, is there any pretty girl in this neighborhood that would suit a young man like me?”

      “Oho! begor, there’s girruls enough to shute any man.”

      “Aye, Andy — but pretty girls!”

      “Well surr, that depinds. Now what might be yer ‘anr’s idea iv a purty girrul?”

      “My dear Andy, there are so many different kinds of prettiness that it is hard to say.”

      “Faix, an’ I’ll tell ye if there’s a girrul to shute in the counthry, for bedad I think I’ve seen thim all. But you must let me know what would shute ye best?”

      “How can I well tell that, Andy, when I don’t know myself? Show me the girl, and I’ll very soon tell you.”

      “Unless I was to ax yer ‘an’r questions;” this was said very slyly.

      “Go on, Andy; there is nothing like the Socratic method.”

      “Very well, thin; I’ll ax two kinds iv things, an’ yer ‘an’r will tell me which ye’d like the best.”

      “All right, go on.”

      “Long or short?”

      “Tall; not short, certainly.”

      “Fat or lane?”

      “Fie! fie! Andy, for shame; you talk as if they were cattle or pigs.”

      “Begor, there’s only wan kind iv fat an’ lane that I knows of; but av ye like I’ll call it thick or thin; which is it?”

      “Not too fat, but certainly not skinny.”

      Andy held up his hands in mock horror:

      “Yer ‘an’r shpakes as if ye was talkin’ iv powlthry.”

      “I mean, Andy,” said I, with a certain sense of shame, “she is not to be either too fat or too lean, as you put it.”

      “Ye mane ‘shtreaky’!

      “Streaky!” said I, “what do you mean?”

      He answered promptly:

      “Shtreaky — thick an’ thin — like belly bacon.” I said nothing. I felt certain it would be useless and out of place. He went on: “Nixt, fair or dark?”

      “Dark,