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PEGGY AND HER FATHER SET OUT FOR THE FAIR AT KILLARNEY
rubbing his hands, "but 'tis Jerry himself, twice as handsome as loife, bejabbers. Peggy, lass, spake t* Misther Donovan, an' tell him ye 're afther raygrettin' th' onmannerly wurruds yez sphoke t'other marnin'."
Now, at sight of young Jerry, Peggy's contrary heart had knocked, pleading-like, on the roof of her mouth, whispering some such words as these: "Ach, agra! be swate t' th' lad. There's none boulder in Kerry, as yez well know, an' he's lovin' yez thrue. Give him a shmile an' a dacint wurrud, Peggy mavrone !"
But afore ever she could decide what to do, her father's meddlesome bidding came cold to her ears. So she tossed her head, scornful as the squire's lady, and turned her back on the honest young gossoon entirely. Old Michael's face grew as black as a banshee's, but he went on making matters as worse as he could, which is the way with a man in a temper.
"Niver ye moind, Jerry, me lad," he shouted. "Thrust me t' tache th' young hussy betther manners. Marry yez she shall, as thrue as me name's
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Michael O'Malley, if I have t' bate her into lovin' yez, begorra!"
For the rest of the trudge home Peggy was silent. When a woman talks, a man need not fear her, for her anger runs off the tip of her tongue and is gone. But when a woman is silent, she is dangerous. Old Michael felt rather uneasy as he smoked his cob pipe on the doorstone and listened to Peggy neatening the room and putting away the supper dishes. When the last plate was in place, she came to the door.
"Feyther," said Peggy, coldly, "wance an' f 'r all I tell yez I'll marry who I plaze, an' not who ye plaze. 'Tis useless t' argyfy longer. Me moind," said Peggy, firmly, "is made up intirely."
"Ye ballyraggin' spalpeen!" cried old Michael, waving his pipe fearsomely, "I'm masther here, an' ye '11 do as I say."
"Niver!" retorted his daughter, and fled up the ladder to her room in the loft, hugging a wild, new scheme to her heart.
"I'll love who I plaze!" cried