We don't want any beggars here." "Shure, I don't see any," said the other boy, demurely.
"What are you but a beggar ?" "Shure, I'm a gintleman of indepindent fortune." "You look like it," said Godfrey, disdainfully.

"Where do you keep it ?" "Here!" said the Irish boy, tapping a bundle which he carried over his shoulder, wrapped in a red cotton handkerchief, with a stick thrust through beneath the knot.
"What's your name ?" "Andy Burke.

What's yours ?" "I don't feel under any obligations to answer your questions," said Godfrey, haughtily.
"Don't you?
Then what made you ask me ?" "That's different.

You are only an Irish boy." "And who are you ?" "I am the only son of Colonel Anthony Preston," returned Godfrey, impressively.
"Are you, now?
I thought you was a royal duke, or maybe Queen Victoria's oldest boy." "Fellow, you are becoming impertinent." "Faith, I didn't mean it.

You look so proud and gintale that it's jist a mistake I made." "You knew that we had no dukes in America," said Godfrey, suspiciously.
"If we had, now, you'd be one of them," said Andy.
"Why?
What makes you say so ?" "You're jist the picture of the Earl of Barleycorn's ildest son that I saw before I left Ireland." Godfrey possessed so large a share of ridiculous pride that he felt pleased with the compliment, though he was not clear about its sincerity.
"Where do you live ?" he asked, with a slight lowering of his tone.
"Where do I live?
Shure, I don't live anywhere now, but I'm going to live in the village.