that her welcome to him was extremely sincere--"from the teeth out."
Father Ned saw perfectly through her assumed heartiness of manner, but
acted as if the contrary was the case; Nancy understood him also, and
with an intention of making up by complaisance for their niggardliness
in other respects, was a perfect honeycomb. This state of
cross-purposes, however, could not last long; neither did it. Father Ned
never paid, and Nancy never gave credit; so, at length, they came to an
open rupture; she threatened to process him for what he owed her, and
he, in return, threatened to remove the congregation from "The Forth"
to Ballymagowan bridge, where he intended to set up his nephew in the
"public line," to the ruin of Nancy's flourishing establishment.

"Father Ned," said Nancy, "I'm a hardworking, honest woman, and I don't
see why my substance is to be wasted by your Reverence when you won't
pay for it."

"And do you forget," Father Ned would reply, "that it's me that
brings you your custom? Don't you know that if I remove my flock to
Ballymagowan, you'll soon sing to another tune? so lay that to your
heart."

"Troth, I know that whatever I get I'm obliged to pay for it; and I
think every man should do the same, Father Ned. You must get a hank of
yarn from me, and a bushel or two of oats from Ned, and your riglar dues
along with all; but, avourneen, it's yourself that won't pay a penny
when you can help it."

"Salvation to me, but you'd skin a flint!"

"Well, if I would, I pay my debts first."