But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned to suspict me at all
at all, and disperate hard it was he made the love to her leddyship.
"Woully wou," says he, Pully wou," says he, "Plump in the mud," says
he.
"That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen," thinks I; and I
talked as hard and as fast as I could all the while, and throth it was
mesilf jist that divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, by
rason of the illigant conversation that I kipt up wid her all about
the dear bogs of Connaught. And by and by she gived me such a swate
smile, from one ind of her mouth to the ither, that it made me as
bould as a pig, and I jist took hould of the ind of her little
finger in the most dillikitest manner in natur, looking at her all the
while out o' the whites of my eyes.
And then ounly percave the cuteness of the swate angel, for no
sooner did she obsarve that I was afther the squazing of her
flipper, than she up wid it in a jiffy, and put it away behind her
back, jist as much as to say, "Now thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
there's a bitther chance for ye, mavourneen, for it's not altogether
the gentaal thing to be afther the squazing of my flipper right full
in the sight of that little furrenner Frinchman, Mounseer
Maiter-di-dauns.
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