The next evening was that immediately preceding the assizes, and it was known that Dalton’s trial was either the second or third on the list, and must consequently come on, on the following day.  The pedlar and Hanlon sat in a depressed and melancholy mood at the fire; an old crone belonging to the village, who had been engaged to take care of the house during the absence of Hanlon’s aunt, sat at the other side, occasionally putting an empty dudeen into her mouth, drawing it hopelessly, and immediately knocking the bowl of it in a fretful manner, against the nail of her left thumb.

“What’s the matther, Ailey?” asked the pedlar; “are you out o’ tobaccy?”

“Throth it’s time for you to ax—­ay am I; since I ate my dinner, sorra puff I had.”

“Here then,” he replied, suiting the action to the word, and throwing a few halfpence into her lap; “go to Peggy Finigan’s an’ buy yourself a couple of ounces, an’ smoke rings round you; and listen to me, go down before you come back to Bamy Keeran’s an’ see whether he has my shoes done or not, an’ tell him from me, that if they’re not ready for me tomorrow mornin’, I’ll get him exkummunicated.”

When the crone had gone out, the pedlar proceeded: 

“Don’t be cast down yet, I tell you; there’s still time enough, an’ they may be here still.”

“Be here still! why, good God! isn’t the thrial to come on to-morrow, they say?”

“So itself; you may take my word for it, that even if he’s found guilty, they won’t hang him, or any man of his years.”

“Don’t be too sure o’ that,” replied Hanlon; “but indeed what could I expect afther dependin’ upon a foolish dhrame?”

“Never mind; I’m still of the opinion that everything may come about yet.  The Prophet’s wife was with Father Hanratty, tellin’ him something, an’ he is to call here early in the mornin’; he bid me tell you so.”

“When did you see him?”

“To day at the cross roads, as he was goin’ to a sick call.

“But where’s the use o’ that, when they’re not here?  My own opinion is, that she’s either sick, or if God hasn’t said it, maybe dead.  How can we tell if ever she has seen or found the man you sent her for?  Sure, if she didn’t, all’s lost.”

“Throth, I allow,” replied the pedlar, “that things is in a distressin’ state with us; however, while there’s life there’s hope, as the Doctor says.  There must be something extraordinary wrong to keep them away so long, I grant—­or herself, at any rate; still, I say again, trust in God.  You have secured Duncan, you say; but can you depend on the ruffian?”

“If it was on his honesty, I could not, one second, but I do upon his villainy and love of money.  I have promised him enough, and it all depends on whether he’ll believe me or not.”

“Well, well,” observed the other, “I wish things had a brighter look up.  If we fail, I won’t know what to say.  We must only thry an’ do the best we can, ourselves.”