ley's End Restaurant; an' they was married be th' justice.' I hurled th' lie in his face, an' followed it wid a pan o' hot mush. But it was th' God's truth he told me."
"So Oscar flew his kites with the blonde?" asked Brian.
"Where he wint God knows, and how long he'll shtay th' divil cares," she muttered. "But wan thing I know. White coward that he is, he'll niver dare show his mushroom face at me door to claim th' half av his property from th' Widdy Casey."
"So that's why you won't sell! You're holdin' out for Oscar."
"Ask me nawthin'!" She made a sudden dash at a smudge of smoke that came trickling through the chinks in the oven door. "And now I've burnt me cookies to a heathen sacrifice while gab bin' here for th' good av nayther av us!" she snorted. "G'wan wid yez, befoor I heap th' cinders on yer red head!"
"If you sold your lots, you could hire a cook to cook your cookies," said Brian blandly at the door.
"A mother's shpankin' wud av saved yer manners,
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