“No, certainly not, captain—­as Darby says, certainly not, plaise your worship—­ha, ha!”

“Come, Phil, keep quiet; it is now time that operations should seriously commence.  I have gained most of my points, thank—­Valentine M’Clutchy, at all events.  I am head agent; you are my Deputy-master of an Orange Lodge—­a Magistrate, and write J.P. after my name—­Captain and Paymaster in the Castle Cumber cavalry, and you lieutenant; and though last, not least, thanks to my zeal and activity in the Protestant cause, I am at length a member of the Grand Panel of the county.  Phil, my boy, there is nothing like religion and loyalty when well managed, but otherwise—­”

“They are not worth a feather,” replied Phil; “right, captain—­there’s an oracle again.”

“And, Phil, my son; what is there wrong in this?  In fact there is scarcely a better capital to trade on than religion and loyalty.  You know what I mean, Phil;—­not the things, if there be such things, which I must beg leave to doubt; but that principle which causes one man to hate another, in proportion to its influence over him.”

“Ay,” said Phil, “just as you and I, who have not got a touch of religion in our whole composition, have the character of being two of the staunchest Protestants in the county.”

“Yes,” replied the father, “and in this case the fiction is as good and better than the truth.  The fiction, Phil, under which our religion appears is our own interests—­no, I am wrong—­the fiction under which our interest appeal’s is our religion—­that is the way of it; and the truth is, Phil, that ninety-nine men out of every hundred will go ninety-nine miles for their interests, before they will go one for either religion or truth—­that’s the way of it, too.  However, pass that—­now about Poll Doolin and the hint I gave you?”

“Why, you know at that time matters were not ripe for it.  Don’t you remember telling me so yourself?”

“I do, but I speak of your present intentions.”

“Faith, my present intentions would be to marry the girl, Papist though she be, if I could; but as that’s out of the question, I will now follow up your hint.”

“Then you had better see Poll, and go on with it.  Are you aware, besides, that the concern is tottering?”

“The manufactory!  No—­is that possible?”

“It is a fact; but you know not how honest Solomon and I have been at work.  It is tottering, Lieutenant M’Clutchy, and in a short time you will see what you shall see.”

“Well,” said Phil, “so far everything is turning out very fortunate for us—­but I think, Captain, that you are one of those men who are born under what they call a lucky planet;—­eh? old boy?”

“Well, I think so; but in the meantime see Poll Doolin, and after that pay a visit to my father.  The old scoundrel is upon his last legs, and there can be no harm in paying him some attention now.  You are not a favorite of his; so smooth him down as much as you can.  I don’t myself expect that he will remember either of us in his will; but, as he is hasty and capricious, it is difficult to say what effect a favorable impression might have upon him.”