"Well, it is a shame; do you know what I've heerd?"
"Why, neither more nor less than that _purty_ Miss Norah is setting her sthraw bonnet at Pat Kinchela."
"It's the heaven's truth; didn't I see her to day, lookin' at him dhreadful? _I_ wouldn't look at a man the way she did, no, not if he was made of goold."
"Whist! Nelly; look yondher! if there isn't Pat, see and that consated minx walkin' _arm-in-arm_; bless your sowl, there's quality manners for ye. I wonder, for my part, the road doesn't open and swally such impidence right up; now just obsarve them, sthruttin' along as if everybody else was the dirt undher their feet. Well, if that isn't owdaciousness, I wish somebody would tell me what is."
But, inasmuch as our story has more to do with Pat and Norah than with those chattering specimens of a rather numerous class, we'll attend to _them_, and let the others go about their business--of detraction.
Pat has just hazarded an important question, as would appear from the sudden and more brilliant flush that spread over pretty Norah's cheek, than from any significancy in her reply, which was simply:
"You're mighty impident to-day, Mr. Kinchela."
"Athin, Norieen, jewel," answered Pat, "if it comes to the rights of the thing, how the divil can I help it? Sure an' haven't you kept me danglin' afther you for nigh hand a twel'month, an' it's neither yis nor no, that I can squeeze out of your purty little mouth."
"Ah, indeed!" said Norah, with the shadow of a pout that might have been simulated, "then I suppose you'd be satisfied whichever it was."
"Faix, yis would be satisfactory enough," replied Pat, who did his wooing in rather a careless manner, philosophically.
"Why, thin, I suppose I'd have to put up wid that for the want of a betther."
"An' try your luck somewhere else, may-be?" continued Norah, with a dash of lemon.
"An' why not?" answered Pat, with apparent carelessness. "If you couldn't ketch a throut in one place, you wouldn't come back wid an empty basket, would you? unless, may-be, you had no particular appetite for fish."
"Then, sir, you have my permission to bait your hook as soon as you like, for I have no idea of nibblin'," said Norah, letting go Pat's arm, and walking _very_ fast--not so fast, though, but that our cavalier friend could keep up with her, flinging in occasional morsels of aggravation.