“Are you the Mr. Eugenius McGrane,” asked the agent, “who drew up this extraordinary document?”

“No, your honor; I’m only merely a friend of the Daltons, although a stranger in the neighborhood.”

“But what means have Dalton or his family, granting that he escapes from this charge of murder that’s against him, of stocking or working so large a farm?  I am aware myself that the contents of this petition, with all its pedantry, are too true.”

“But consider, sir, that he sunk seven hundred pounds in it, an’ that, according to everything like fair play, he ought either to get his farm again, at a raisonable rate, or his money that raised its value for the landlord, back again; sure, that’s but fair, your honor.”

“I’m not here to discuss the morality of the subject, my good friend, neither do I question the truth of your argument, simply as you put it.  I only say, that what you ask, is impracticable.  You probably know not Dick o’ the Grange, for you say you are a stranger—­if you did, you would not put yourself to the trouble of getting even a petition for such a purpose written.”

“It’s a hard case, your honor.”

“It is a hard case; but the truth is, I see nothing that can be done for the Daltons.  To talk of putting a family, in such a state as they are now in, back again, upon such a farm, is stark nonsense—­without stock or capital of any kind—­the thing is ridiculous.”

“But suppose they had stock and capital?”

“Why, then, they certainly would have the best right to the farm—­but where’s the use of talking about stock or capital, so far as they are concerned?”

“I wish your honor would interfere for an oppressed and ill-treated family, against as great a rogue, by all accounts, as ever broke bread—­I wish you would make me first sure that they’d get their farm.”

“To what purpose, I say?”

“Why, sir, for a raison I have.  If your honor will make me sure that they’ll get their land again, that’s all I want."’

“What is your reason?  Have you capital, and are you willing to assist them?”

The pedlar shook his head.  “Is it the likes o’ me, your honor?  No, but maybe it might be made up for them some way.”

“I believe,” said the agent, “that your intentions are good; only that they are altogether impracticable.  However, a thought strikes me.  Go to Dick o’ the Grange, and lay your case before him.  Ask a new lease for your friends, the Daltons—­of course he won’t give it; but at all events, come back to me, and let me know, as nearly in his own words as you can, what answer he will give you; go now, that is all that I can do for you in the matter.”

“Barrin’ this, your honor, that set in case the poor heart-broken Daltons wor to get capital some way.”

“Perhaps,” said Travers, interrupting him, “you can assist them.”

“Oh, if I could!—­no, but that set in case, as I said, that it was to be forthcomin’, you persave.  Me!—­oh, the Lord that I was able!”