“By the way,” said Mrs. Temple, “I think you committed a mistake on the occasion of your last call here?”

“A mistake, ma’am!” said he, with well-feigned surprise—­“well, indeed, ma’am, it’s not unlikely; for, to tell you the truth, I’ve a vile mimory—­sorra thing a’most but I disremimber, in a day or two after it happens.”

“Do you not remember,” she proceeded, with a melancholy smile, “a negotiation we had when you were here last?”

“A what, ma’am?”

“A—­a—­purchase you made from me,” she added.

“From you!” he exclaimed, with apparent astonishment; “well, then, I can’t say that I have any recollection of it—­I remember something—­that is, some dalins or other I had wid the maid, but I don’t remember purchasin’ anything from you, ma’am.”

“It was a shawl,” she replied, “which you purchased, if you remember, and paid for, but which you forgot to bring with you.”

“Why, then,” he exclaimed, after rubbing his head with his fore-finger, “bad cess to me if I can remimber it; but the truth is, ma’am, I make so many purchases, and so many sales, that like the priest and them that confess to him, the last thing fairly drives the one that went afore it out o’ my head.”

“You paid six guineas,” continued Mrs. Temple, “for the shawl, but left it behind you.”

“Well, bedad, ma’am,” said the pedlar, smiling, “it’s aisy to see that you’re no rogue, at any rate.  In the present case, thin,” he added, “I suppose you wish to give me the shawl?”

“Oh, certainly,” she replied, “if you wish for it; but at the same time I would much rather keep the shawl and return you the money.”

“I’m in no hurry, ma’am for either shawl or money, if it isn’t—­hem—­if it isn’t just convanient.”

“You are an honest, sterling fellow,” said her husband, “and I assure you that we thoroughly appreciate your delicacy and worth.  I know Mrs. Temple would prefer keeping the shawl, and if you will call in the course of the evening, I shall return the money to you.  I must first go into Lisnagola to get change for a note.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied the Cannie, “but it is time enough—­I am in no hurry at all—­not the laist; it will do when I call again..  And now that that’s settled—­and many thanks to you, ma’am,” he added, bowing to Mrs. Temple, “for thinkin’ of it, I’d be glad to have a word or two wid you, sir, if you plaise.”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Temple, going to the hall-door, and opening it, “come in a moment; leave your pack in the hall there, and come this way.”

He then proceeded to the library, whither the pedlar followed him; and after looking about him with something like caution, he said, “You know Mr. Purcel, the proctor, sir?”

“Of course I do,” replied Mr. Temple.

“I’m not askin’ it as a question,” he proceeded; “but I wish to say, that as you do know him and his sons, it’s possible you may save them from destruction.  I was tould by a stranger that I never seen before, and that I didn’t know from Adam, that his house is to be attacked either this night or to-morrow night.”