Thank God you're not one of the fifty that ride in the tumbrel the morrow; thank God you've got a sweet wife that will bear with your grumblings; and thank God you've got a body like me that's not afraid to tell you what I think of yez.

Hold yer tongue now, and get to your beds." Biddy, as I learned later on, had stuck of her own accord to her master and mistress through all their troubles, and presumed on her position to take her chicken-hearted lord severely to task when, like to-night, the grumbling fit was upon him.
As for me, I was dismissed with little thanks from anybody; but Biddy bade me call now and again to have a crack with her.
"I had a liking for your father, poor soul!" said she, wiping a corner of her eye, "and thought he might have done worse than make me a mother to you and Tim, rest his soul! But it's as well as it is, maybe.

Poor Tim! I always liked him better than you.

He was his mother's son.
Well, well, he's dead too.

Barry, my boy, we can't all just have what we've not got; we all have to stand out of our own.