“No,” said the other, “certainly I have—­upon my credit I haven’t, an’ that’s what I complain of; neither you nor your family associate with me or mine.”

“Tut, Val, man,” replied M’Loughlin, still in the same dry, ironical tone as before, “surely it’s not long since you came to march us.  It’s only two years and a half since you wormed out the O’Hagans, then the farm lay near two years idle—­ay—­why, man, you’re not four months our neighbor yet.”

“No—­not all out; still, Mr. M’Loughlin, somehow you don’t treat me or my family as neighbors.  If you have to borrow anything, no matter what it is, you never come to me for it.  It was only the other day that you wanted a rope to pull that breeding mare of yours out of the drain—­and yet you sent past me near half a mile, up to Widow Lenehan’s to borrow it.”

“Heavens pity you, Val, for it’s a hard case; but every one has their troubles, and it seems you are not without your own, poor man—­eh—­ha! ha! ha!—­Well, never mind, my friend; you’re better off now for all that, than when you were only a process-server on the estate; however, I’ll tell you what, Val the Vulture—­you see I can be neighborly sometimes—­just let me know whenever you stand in need of a rope—­mark, I don’t say whenever you deserve it—­and may I never taste worse liquor than this, but you shall have it with right good will, hoping still that you’ll make a proper use of it—­ha! ha! ha!  Come, man, in the mean time take your liquor, an’ don’t look as if you’d eat me without salt; for I tell you if you tried it, you’d find Brian M’Loughlin a tougher morsel than you imagine.”

“If anybody else spoke to me in the style you do, Brian, I’d not be apt to overlook it; upon my credit and reputation I would not.”

“No, but you’d look round it may be, ha! ha! ha! but go on, Vulture, who minds what I say?”

“Nobody, to be sure, because you make one laugh whether they will or not.”

“Faith, Vulture dear, and that’s what nobody can tax you with; or if you do, it’s on the wrong side of the mouth you do it—­and they say that same is but indifferent mirth, Val.”

“I wish, Brian, you would sometimes speak seriously, and besides, you’re always hard, too hard, upon me.  Anything I did harshly, it was always in the discharge of my duty.”

“Never mind, Val, the fewer of those old sores you rip up, the better for yourself—­I’m not going to put you through your catechism about them.  If you’re wise, let byegones be byegones; take that advice from me.  Whatever tricks you may have practised, you’re now a wealthy man, and for the same reason the world will help you forget them, if you keep your toe in your pump.”

“I am a wealthy man, and can set the world at defiance, if it goes to that; yes, Brian, a wealthier man than the world thinks—­and as I said, I defy it.”

“Faith, and you needn’t, for the world won’t put you to that trouble, at least a great part of it, if you were ten times the vulture you are, so long as you have a full purse.  Eh, do you perceive me? ha! ha! ha!”