may tell him this, Frank,—­that his wisest plan is to keep clear of the counthry.  Sure, it’s a gambler he is, they say; an’ we must be harrished an’ racked to support his villany!  But wait a bit; maybe there’s a good time comin’, when we’ll pay our money to thim that won’t be too proud to hear our complaints wid their own ears, an’ who won’t turn us over to a divil’s limb of an agent.  He had need, anyhow, to get his coffin sooner nor he thinks.  What signifies hangin’ in a good cause?” said he, as the tears of keen indignation burst from his glowing eyes.  “It’s a dacent death, an’ a happy death, when it’s for the right,” he added—­for his mind was evidently fixed upon the contemplation of those means of redress, which the habits of the country, and the prejudices of the people, present to them in the first moments of passion.

“It’s well that Frank’s one of ourselves,” replied Owen, coolly, “otherwise, Jemmy, you said words that would lay you up by the heels.  As for you, Frank, you must look over this.  The boy’s the son of dacent poor parents, an’ it’s a new thing for him to see the cows druv from the place.  The poor fellow’s vexed, too, that he has been so long laid up wid a sore back; an’ so you see one thing or another has put him through other.  Jimmy is warm-hearted afther all, an’ will be sorry for it when he cools, an’ renumbers that you wor only doin’ your duty.”

“But what am I to do about the cows?  Sure, I can’t go back widout either thim or the rint?” said Frank, with a look of fear and trembling at Jemmy.

“The cows!” said another of the widow’s sons who then came in; “why, you dirty spalpeen of a rip, you may whistle on the wrong side o’ your mouth for them.  I druv them off of the estate; an’ now take them, if you dar!  It’s conthrairy to law,” said the urchin; “an’ if you’d touch them, I’d make my mudher sarve you wid a lattitat or fiery-flashes.”

This was a triumph to the youngsters, who, began to shake their little fists at him, and to exclaim in a chorus—­“Ha, you dirty rip! wait till we get you out o’ the house, an’ if we don’t put you from ever drivin’!  Why, but you work like another!—­ha, you’ll get it!”—­and every little fist was shook in vengeance at him.

“Whist wid ye,” said Jemmy to the little ones; “let him alone, he got enough.  There’s the cows for you; an keen may the curse o’ the widow an’ orphans light upon you, and upon them that sent you, from first to last!—­an’ that’s the best we wish you!”

“Frank,” said Owen to the bailiff, “is there any one in the town below that will take the rint, an’ give a resate for it?  Do you think, man, that the neighbors of an honest, industrious woman ’ud see the cattle taken out of her byre for a thrifle?  Hut tut! no, man alive—­no sich thing!  There’s not a man in the parish, wid manes to do it, would see them taken away to be canted, at only about a fourth part of their value.  Hut, tut,—­no!”