Campbell, bitterly: "Well, Agnes, for a woman that's set so many
people by the ears, you let yourself up pretty easily. By Jove! here
comes that fellow back again!" They all mechanically shrink aside, and
leave Roberts exposed to the approach of McIlheny.

McIlheny: "Now, sor, me thrain's gahn, and we can talk this little
matter oover at our aise. What did ye mane, sor, by comin' up to the
Hannorable Mrs. Michael McIlheny and askun' her if she was a cuke? Did
she luke like a person that'd demane herself to a manial position
like that? Her that never put her hands in wather, and had hilpers to
milk her father's cows? What did ye mane, sor? Did she luke like a
lady, or did she luke like a cuke? Tell me that!"

The Cook, bursting upon him from behind Roberts, who eagerly gives
place to her: "_I'll_ tell ye that meself, ye impidint felly! What's
to kape a cuke from lukun' like a lady, or a lady from lukun' like a
cuke? Ah, Mike McIlheny, ye drunken blaggurd, is it _me_ ye're tellin'
that Mary Molloy never put her hands in wather, and kept hilpers to
milk her father's cows! Cows indade! It was wan pig under the bed; and
more shame to them that's ashamed to call it a pig, if ye _are_ my
cousin! _I'm_ the lady the gentleman was lukin' for, and if ye think
I'm not as good as Mary Molloy the best day she ever stipped, I'll
thank ye to tell me who is. Be off wid ye, or I'll say something ye'll
not like to hear!"

McIlheny: "Sure I was jokin', Maggie! I was goun' to tell the
gintleman that if he was lukun' for a cuke, I'd a cousin out of place
that was the best professed cuke in Bahston. And I'm glad he's got ye:
and he's a gintleman every inch, and so's his lady, I dar' say, though
I haven't the pleasure of her acquaintance--"