spiteful; “that’s not a dacint shuit of clothes for any woman to wear!”
The next minute you might have knocked him down with a feather, for the picture of Honoria O’Shaughnessy opened its mouth an’ stuck out its tongue at him.
“The supper’s getting cowld, the supper’s getting cowld!” someone cried at the other ind of the picture-gallery. Two big doors were swung open, an’ glad enough was our poor hayro to folly the musicianers down to the room where the ating an’ drinking were to be thransacted.
This was a little room with lots of looking-glasses, and it was bright with a thousand candles, and white with the shining-ist marble. On the table was biled beef an’ reddishes an’ carrots an’ roast mutton an’ all kinds of important ating an’ drinking. Beside there stood fruits an’ sweets an’—but, sure, what is the use in talkin’?
A high-backed chair stood ready for aich of the family, an’ ’twas a lovely sight to see them all whin they were sitting there—Darby at the head, Bridget at the foot, the childher—the poor little paythriarchs—sitting bolt upright on aich side, with a bewigged
