“The rascal was quick!” said the Bodagh, “but upon my credit, Biddy, you wor a pop afore him for all that.  Divil a thing I, or John, or the others, could do wid only one gun an’ a case o’ pistols against so many—­still we would have fought life or death for poor Una anyhow.  But Biddy, here, good girl, by her cleverness and invention saved us the danger, an’ maybe was the manes of savin’ some of our lives or theirs.  God knows I’d have no relish to be shot myself,” said the pacific Bodagh, “nor would I ever have a day or night’s pace if I had the blood of a fellow-crathur on my sowl—­upon my sowl I wouldn’t.”

“But, blood alive, masther, what could I ‘a’ done only for Ned M’Cormick, that gave us the hard word?” said Biddy, anxious to transfer the merit of the transaction to her lover.

“Well, well, Bid,” replied the Bodagh, “maybe neither Ned nor yourself will be a loser by it.  If you’re bent on layin’ your heads together we’ll find you a weddin’ present, anyway.”

“Bedad, sir, I’m puzzled to know how they got in so aisy,” said Ned.

“That matter remains to be cleared up yet,” said John.  “There is certainly treachery in the camp somewhere.”

“I am cock sure the hall—­door was not latched,” said Duffy; “for they had neither stop nor stay at it.”

“There is a villing among us sartainly,” observed Mrs. O’Brien; “for as heaving is above me, I locked it wid my own two hands this blessed night.”

“I thought it might be wid the kay, Bridget,” said the Bodagh, laughing at his own easy joke; “for you see, doors is ginerally locked wid kays—­ha! ha! ha!”

“Faix, but had Oona been tuck away tonight wid that vag o’ the world, it’s not laughin’ you’d be.”

“God, He sees, that’s only thruth, too, Bridget,” he replied; “but still there’s some rogue about the place that opened the door for the villins.”

“Dar ma chuirp, I’ll hould goold I put the saddle on the right horse in no time,” said Biddy.  “Misthress, will you call Kitty Lowry, ma’am, i’ you plase?  Ill do everything above boord; no behind backs for me; blazes to the one alive hates foul play more nor I do.”

We ought to have observed that one of Biddy’s peculiarities was a more than usual readiness at letting fly, and not unfrequently at giving an oath; and as her character presented a strange compound of simplicity and cleverness, honesty and adroitness, her master and mistress, and fellow-servants, were frequently amused by this unfeminine propensity.  For instance, if Una happened to ask her, “Biddy, did you iron the linen?” her usual reply was, “No, blast the iron, miss, I hadn’t time.”  Of course the family did everything in their power to discourage such a practice; but on this point they found it impossible to reform her.  Kitty Lowry’s countenance, when she appeared, certainly presented strong indications of guilt; but still there was a hardness of outline about it which gave promise at the same time of the most intrepid assurance.  Biddy, on the. other hand, was brimful of consequence, and a sense of authority, on finding that the judicial power was on this occasion entrusted chiefly to her hands.  She rose up when Kitty entered, and stuck a pair of red formidable fists with great energy into her sides.