“Don’t be unaisy, Darby,” he said.  “We can’t give you a lease for about a week or fortnight; but the agent is now here, an’ we must first take out new leases ourselves.  As soon as we do you shall have yours.”

“If you only knew, your honor, the scrapin’ I had in these hard times, to get together that hundhre—­”

“Hush—­there,” said the other, clapping his hand, with an air of ridicule and contempt upon the miser’s mouth; “that will do now; be off, and depend upon——­mum, you understand mo!  Ha, ha, ha!—­that’s not a bad move, father,” he added; “however, I think we must give him the farm.”

The pedlar had been standing in the middle of the floor, when young Dick, turning round suddenly, asked him with a frown, occasioned by the fact of his having overheard this short dialogue, what he wanted.

“God save you honors, gintlemen,” said the pedlar, in a loud straightforward voice.  “I’m glad to see your honor looking so well,” he added, turning to the father; “it’s fresh an’ young your gettin’, sir!—­glory be to God!”

“Who is this fellow, Dick?  Do you think I look better, my man?”

“Says Jemmy Branigan to me afore I came in,” proceeded the pedlar,—­“he’s a thrue friend o’ mine, your honor, Jemmy is, an’ ’ud go to the well o’ the world’s end to sarve me—­says he, you’ll be delighted, Harry, to see the masther look so fresh an’ well.”

“And the cursed old hypocrite is just after telling me, Dick, to prepare for a long journey; adding, for my consolation, that it won’t be a troublesome one, as it will be all down hill.”

“Why,” replied the son, “he has given you that information for the ten thousandth time, to my own knowledge.  What does this man want?  What’s your business, my good fellow?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” replied the pedlar, “will you allow me to ask you one question; were you ever in the forty-seventh foot?  Oh, bedad, it must be him to a sartinty,” he added, as if to himself.  “No,” replied Dick; “why so?”

“Take care, your honor,” said the pedlar, smiling roguishly;—­“take care now, your honor, if it wasn’t you—­”

“What are you speaking about—­what do you mean?” asked the young man.

The pedlar went over to him, and said, in a low voice, looking cautiously at the father, as if he didn’t wish that he should hear him—­

“It was surely your honor took away Lord Handicap’s daughter when you wor an ensign—­the handsome ensign, as they called you in the forty-seventh?  Eh? faix I knew you the minute I looked at you.”

“Ha, ha, ha!  Do you know what, father?  He says I’m the handsome ensign of the forty-seventh, that took away Lord Handicap’s daughter.”

“The greatest beauty in all England,” added the pedlar; “an’ I knew him at wanst, your honor.”

“Well, Dick, that’s a compliment, at any rate,” replied the father.

“Were you ever in the forty-seventh?” asked the son, smiling.