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"There was Bogans living down by the brick mill when I first come here, neighbors to Flaherty's folks," continued Mrs. Dunleavy, more and more aggrieved. "Biddy Con'ly ought to know the Flahertys, they being her cousins.
Faix, this is the first welcome I 've got yet from anny one. 'Tis a beautiful welcome, too, I'll get me apron out of me bundle, by your l'ave, Mrs. Con'ly. You 've a strong resemblance to Flaherty's folks, dear, being cousins. Well, 't is a fine thing to have good neighbors. You an' Mrs. Dunleavy is very pleasant here so close together."
Biddy Con'ly, seeing she was well watched, got the airs of a pr'acher, and set down whatever she might happen to be carrying and tried would she get the better of me for the sake of their admiration. Oh, but wa'n't she all drabbled and wet from the roads, and the world knows meself for a very tidy walker!
Sure this is far beyond the rights of a few pumpkin seeds that has just cleared the ground! and all the folks laughed. I 'd no call to have tark with Biddy Con'ly before them idle b'ys and gerrls, nor to let the two of us become their laughing-stock. I tuk up me basket, being ashamed then, and I meant to go away, mad as I was. 'Coom, Mrs.
I 'd no call for her company anny more, and I took a vow I 'd never spake a word to her again while the world stood. So all is over since then betune Biddy Con'ly and me. No, I don't look at her at all!" Some time afterward, in late summer, Mrs. Dunleavy stood, large and noisy, but generous-hearted, addressing some remarks from her front doorway to a goat on the sidewalk.
Coom out to them, Nora; give me the shild; coom out, Patsy boy!" "Where 's Nora? Where 's Nora?" they could hear the loud cry coming, as all the neighbors hurried up the hill. "'Well, now, says I, 'Mrs. Con'ly, says I, 'how ever you may tark, 'tis nobody's business and I wanting to plant a few pumpkins for me cow in among me cabbages.
Maybe the land don't suit 'em, but glory be to God, me cabbages is the size of the house, an' you 'll git the pick of the best, Mrs. Con'ly." "What's melons betune friends, or cabbages ayther, that they should ever make any trouble?" answered Mrs. Connelly handsomely, and the great feud was forever ended.
Sure I was sorry for the crathur an' she having such a timper boiling in her heart. "'Look at you now, Mrs. Con'ly, says I, kind of soft, 'you 'ont be fit for mass these two Sundays with a black eye like this, and your face arl scratched, and every bliguard has gone the lingth of the town to tell tales of us.
I 've got the right to plant whatever I may choose, if it's the divil of a crop of t'istles in the middle of me ground. 'No ma'am, you ain't, says Biddy Con'ly; 'you ain't got anny right to plant t'istles that's not for the public good, says she; and I being so hasty wit' me timper, I shuk me fist in her face then, and herself shuk her fist at me.
Con'ly! says I, 'let bygones be bygones; what's all this whillalu we 're afther having about nothing? says I very pleasant. "'May the divil fly away with you, Mary Dunl'avy! says she then, 'spoiling me garden ground, as every one can see, and full of your bold talk. I 'll let me hens out into it this afternoon, so I will, says she, and a good deal more.
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