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Updated: June 3, 2025
During the shouts of merriment, Polly, acknowledging her autocratic tendencies, could only hide her diminished head on her sister's shoulder; nevertheless, sitting up again a few moments later she pointed one hand in a dramatic fashion toward the heavens. "Only hear the name I have found for you and you will forgive me much, Mollie Mavourneen," she pleaded.
She laughed at that without the faintest coquetry. "Very easily, I should say. Isn't little Peggy going to bed?" "Of course she is," said Noel. "Hop in, infant! We've been officiating at a wedding to-day, she and I, and the excitement has turned our heads a little. That's the way, mavourneen!" as Peggy, a little shy in the presence of the newcomer, slipped into her bed.
"Ah, Dermot, Dermot asthore! why was it I trated ye so!" The tears were trickling through her fingers, and her heart was aching with self-reproach. "Eily, mavourneen!"
It was a night, a lake, a boat for lovers. "Even granting that, girleen," he said, "it's not going to make somebody unhappy if we take his boat. For he won't know it. And therefore it will make us happy with the least possible unhappiness to anybody else. And, after all, it's more likely to be a fairy's boat, for it's made of quicksilver. Come, mavourneen, come!" She climbed in unconvinced.
Wherever are you, mavourneen? Ah, what'll I do at all? Miss Isabel's gone!" Old Biddy in her huge white apron and mob cap appeared at the top of the staircase and came hobbling down with skinny hands extended. "Ah, Master Scott Master Scott may the saints help us! She's gone! She's gone! And meself sleeping like a hog the whole afternoon through!
So don't worry, mavourneen; when your sallow-faced artist and your hobo jack-of-all-trades desert you, there'll still be a way to keep the Millville Tribune going, and therefore the world will continue to whirl on its axis." "I don't believe Thursday will ever desert, and Hetty likes us too well to leave us in the lurch; but suppose those typesetters take a notion to flit?"
"'How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer away!" broke out Scoutbush. "What a pity it is now, that I should have two such sweet creatures making love to me, and can't marry either of them? Why did ye go and be my father's daughters, mavourneen? I'd have made a peeress of the one of ye, if ye'd had the sense to be anybody else's sisters."
A man of delicate sensibilities would have shrunk from entering Mr. Doyle's yard on a hot day. It was exceedingly dirty, and there were a great many decaying things all over it, besides a manure heap in one corner and a pig-stye in another. But Constable Moriarty had no objection to bad smells. He sat down on the low wall of the pig-stye and whistled "Kathleen Mavourneen."
"That's right, daddy," she said. Uncle John lay back in the chair and put the newspaper over his face again. Patsy and her father stared at one another with grave intentness. Then the Major drew out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. "You'd like to go, mavourneen?" he asked, softly. "Yes, daddy; but I won't, of course."
The Lord rest his sowl in glory ha, ha, ha I'll never forget it. Paddy, the song, you thief?" "No, but tell them about that, Misther Connell." "Throth, an' I will; but don't be Mitherin me. Faith, this is The height o' good punch. You see ha, ha, ha! You see, it was one hard summer afore I was married to Ellish mavourneen, that you wor, asthore! Och, och, are we parted at last?
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