"Was it you, Nanse? It's like
your voice, achora."
Now, the reader must know that a deadly jealousy lay between Nanse and
the cook, _quoad_ honest Barney, who, being aware of the fact, kept
the hopes and fears of each in such an exact state of equilibrium,
that neither of them could, for the life of her, claim the slightest
advantage over the other. The droll varlet had an appetite like a shark,
and a strong relish for drink besides, and what between precious
tidbits from the cook and borrowing small sums for liquor from Nanse, he
contrived to play them off one against the other with great tact.
"I think," said he, his eyes still closed, "that that is Nanse's voice;
is it, acushla?"
"It is, Barney, achora," replied Nanse; "but there's something wrong wid
you."
"I wish to goodness, Nanse, you'd let the boy alone," said the cook;
"when he chooses to spake, he'll spake to them that can undherstand
him."
"O, jaminy stars! that's you, I suppose; ha, ha, ha."
"Keep silence," said Barney, "and listen. Nanse, you are right in one
sinse, and the cook's right in another; you're both right, but at
the present spakin' you're both wrong.
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