“Cannie,” said the proctor, “dix me, but I’m glad to see you—­and how are you, man?—­and do you carry your bones safe—­or your head upon your shoulders at all, durin’ these wild times?”

“Troth, and you may well say they’re wild times, Mr. Purcel, and it’ll be wisdom in every one to keep themselves as safe as possible till they mend.  Is it thruth, sir, that you’re makin’ preparations to collect your tides wid the help o’ the sogers and polis?”

“Perfectly thrue, Cannie; we’ll let the rascals that are misleading the people, as well as the people themselves, know whether they or the law are the strongest.  They cannot blame us for the consequence, for we’re forced to it.”

“There will be bad work, thin, I’m afeard, sir; and bloody work, I dread.”

“That’s not our fault, Cannie, but the fault of those who will wilfully violate the law.  However, let that pass, what’s the news in the world?”

“I suppose you hard, sir, that the house of your friend and neighbor, that man that hears nothin’—­” here there was the slightest perceptible grin upon the pedlar’s face—­“was attacked last night?”

“You don’t mean O’Driscol’s?”

“Upon my profits, I do—­an’ nobody else’s.

“Hillo! do you hear this, girls?  O’Driscol’s house was attacked last night!”

“Heavenly father!  I hope Alick is safe,” exclaimed Mrs. Purcel, getting pale.

“Well, Cannie,” inquired the proctor, quite coolly, and as if it was a matter of mere business, “what was the consequence?  I hope nobody was hurt?”

“Why, that his son Fergus, sir—­that fine young man that everybody was fond of—­”

“Good God!” exclaimed the proctor, now really shocked at what he supposed the pedlar was about to say; “what is it you are goin’ to tell us?  I hope in God—­”

“What is this!” exclaimed John; “heavens, Mary, you have spilled all the tea!”

“Mary, my child,” exclaimed the mother, running to her; “what ails you?—­in God’s name, what is the matter?”

“A sudden faintness,” replied the girl, recovering herself as if by an effort; “but it is over, and I—­I am better.”

“His son Fergus, sir—­I hope Miss Mary is betther, sir—­that his son Fergus and his father, by all accounts, gave them a warmer reception than they expected.”

“But was none of O’Driscol’s family hurt nor anybody else?” asked Purcel.

“No, sir, it seems not—­and indeed I’m main glad of it.”

“D—­n you, Cannie,” exclaimed the other, between jest and earnest, “why did you give me such a start?  You told the affair as if Fergus had been shot—­however, I’m glad that all’s safe in O’Driscol’s;—­but about the night-boys?  Were there any lives lost among them?”

“It’s thought not, sir,” replied the pedlar.  “They left the marks o’ blood behind them, but the general opinion is, that there was no life lost; I hope there wasn’t—­for, indeed, I have such a hatred against the shed-din’ of blood, that I don’t wish even to hear of it.”