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'Deet to goodness, and you do look very poorly, Netta, fach! said that worthy, 'Howel was telling me to see you, and to be giving you this note. Give you another to Shanno before I will be going away, and I will give it to my Howel. Annwyl! you shall be seeing my Howel, now; how he do look a horseback. Beauty seure! he do say you will have a horse, too.
On my deet, and I 'ouldn't say that, if I wasn't as seure as I'm alive, he haven't took a drop too much, nor said a wicked word, nor keep no low company since his poor dear father was dying. Ah, Mrs Prothero! you was being very good to us when I was losing my poor Griffey.
'Oh! but you can't be knowing, David Prothero, how study he is since his poor father's death. 'Then let him wait two years, and if he is downright well-conducted, then he may have Netta. 'Upon my deet! he as can be marrying Miss Rice Rice or any young lady in the country! Mighty condescent, Mr Prothero! 'Let him marry 'em all, I don't want him. 'Then you won't let Netta marry my Howels?
'It's no great things, suggested Netta, 'for they're knocking with a stick, and not with the knocker. 'Name o' goodness, what's the row? said the farmer. 'Who's there? demanded Shanno, in the passage. The answer did not reach the hall, but Shanno came rushing in, 'It's them Irishers again, master, upon my deet, they do be here for ever.
One of the best parts of London. 'Deet, and I should think so. 'Tis like a 'lumination lights. There's no night here. Daylight all the year round. Trees again, like Glanyravon Park, and lights along by. There pretty what a many carriages! Was they all going to the play? Soldiers, too, I am thinking! And more o' them gentlemen's servants in blue and white.
Why deet I not it think before?" cried the baroness, boxing her own ear. "Cochon! Brute! You come, ma pauvre! Mais not as bonne, non, non." "Indeed, Frederica, 't is the only way that we can.
But he 'ont be found guilty, if they do tak him. Owen, bach! it was killing me, 'deet to goodness it was, 'Don't cry, Aunt 'Lizbeth, I wanted to speak to you about Netta. 'Oh seure! she 'ont come to see her husband's mother! and I don't be cheusing to be turned out of doors again. 'She is very ill, aunt. We don't know whether she can ever recover.
I can't be a land-lubber any longer, and I won't, so I shall look out for a ship, pretty soon. 'All because that girl came here to bother us. Deet to goodness, them Irishers have been the plagues of my life ever since I married. 'But she's Welsh, father, and you said so yourself. 'She's a mongrel, and no good ever came out of them. 'She saved mother's life, anyhow.
I wonder his very ghost doesn't appear? but still money won its usual way. And when Howel's chariot came to the door, there were more surprised and admiring eyes fixed upon it from the bystanders without, than on that of any other of the assembled party. As Mrs Griffey Jenkins said when she heard of the evening gaieties, 'Deet to goodness, and my Howel's was grander than any one.
'My deet, there do be a lot of carriages! And look you, Netta, at all the gentlemen's servants in blue and silver! Here's a place! big enough to hold our town. Look you at the glass like a large hot-house. Seure all London isn't covered up like this! 'Here you are! all right come along quick! says Howel, taking them to a cab, and putting them in.
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