"She's not the match that Farmer Brodigan's daughter Kathleen is, to be sure; for he's a rich man, and has given her an iligant eddication in Cork, so that she can look high for a husband.

She won't be takin' up wid anny of our boys, wid her two hundred pounds and her twenty cows and her pianya.

Och, it's a thriminjus player she is, ma'am.

She's that quick and that strong that you'd say she wouldn't lave a string on it." Some of the young men and girls never see each other before the marriage, Moya says.

"But sure," she adds shyly, "I'd niver be contint with that, though some love matches doesn't turn out anny better than the others." "I hope it will be a love match with you, and that I shall dance at your wedding, Moya," I say to her smilingly.
"Faith, I'm thinkin' my husband's intinded mother died an old maid in Dublin," she answers merrily.