It's the iligant locks we do be havin' in the house; they're mortial shtrong, ma'am!" "Strong, indeed!" exclaimed the incensed Benella, in a burst of New England wrath.

"There's nothing strong about the place but the impidence of the people in it! If you had told Peter to get a carpenter or a locksmith, as I've been asking you these two weeks, it would have been all right; but you never do anything till a month after it's too late.
I've no patience with such a set of doshies, dawdling around and leaving everything to go to rack and ruin!" "Sure it was yourself that ruinated the thing," responded Molly, with spirit, for the unaccustomed word 'doshy' had kindled her quick Irish temper.

"It's aisy handlin' the knob is used to, and faith it would 'a' stuck there for you a twelvemonth!" "They will be quarrelling soon," said Salemina nervously.

"Do not wait another instant; you are late enough now, and I insist on your going.
Make any excuse you see fit: say I am ill, say I am dead, if you like, but don't tell the real excuse--it is too shiftless and wretched and embarrassing.

Don't cry, Benella.