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Book, page 131 / 485 _Pat._ Just swallowing my breakfast. _O'Bla._ Mighty long swallowing you are. Here--don't be two minutes, till you're at Catty Rooney's, and let me see how cliverly you'll execute that confidential embassy I trusted you with. Touch Catty up about her ould ancient family, and all the Kings of Ireland she comes from. _Blarney_ her cliverly, and work her to a foam against the McBrides. _Pat._ Never fear, your honour. I'll tell her the story we agreed on, of Honor McBride meeting of Randal Rooney behind the chapel. _O'Bla._ That will do--don't forget the ring; for I mane to put another on the girl's finger, if she's agreeable, and knows her own interest. But that last's a private article. Not a word of that to Catty, you understand. _Pat._ Oh! I understand--and I'll engage I'll compass Catty, tho' she's a cunning shaver. _O'Bla._ Cunning?--No; she's only hot tempered, and asy managed. _Pat._ Whatever she is, I'll do my best to plase you. And I expict your honour, counsellor, won't forget the promise you made me, to ask Mr. Carver for that little place--that situation that would just shute me. _O'Bla._ Never fear, never fear. Time enough to think of shuting you, when you've done my business. [_Exit PAT._ That will work like harm, and ould Matthew, the father, I'll speak to, myself, genteelly. He will be proud, I warrant, to match his daughter with a gentleman like me. But what if he should smell a rat, and want to be looking into my affairs? Oh! I must get it sartified properly to him before all things, that I'm as safe as the bank; and I know who shall do that for me--my worthy friend, that most consequential magistrate, Mr. Carver of Bob's Fort, who loves to be advising and managing of all men, women, and children, for their good. 'Tis he shall advise ould Matthew for _my_ good. Now Carver thinks he lades the whole county, and ten mile round--but who is it lades him, I want to know? Why, Gerald O'Blaney.--And how? Why, by a spoonful of the universal panacea, _flattery_--in the vulgar tongue, _flummery_. (_A knock at the door heard._) Who's rapping at the street?--Carver of Bob's Fort himself, in all his glory this fair-day. See
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