“Order now!” said Mr. Heraty severely.

“An’ he says,” continued William, warily purging his frog-countenance of any hint of appreciation, “that Sweeny knew the ullan that was on her as well as himself did.”

“Ullan! What sort of English is that for an interpreter to be using!  Do ye suppose the general public knows what is an ullan?” interrupted Mr. Heraty with lightning rapidity.  “Explain that now!”

“Why, yer worship, sure anny one in the world’d know what the ullan on a sheep’s back is!” said William, staggered by this sudden onslaught, “though there’s some might call it the rebugh.”

“God help the Government that’s payin’ you wages!” said Mr. Heraty with sudden and bitter ferocity (but did we intercept a wink at his colleague?).  “If it wasn’t for the young family you’re r’arin’ in yer old age, I’d commit ye for contempt of coort!”

A frank shout of laughter, from every one in court but the victim, greeted this sally, the chorus being, as it were, barbed by a shrill crow of whooping-cough.

“Mr. Byrne!” continued Mr. Heraty without a smile, “we must call upon you again!”

Mr. Byrne’s meek scholastic face once more appeared at the rood-screen.

“Well, I should say,” he ventured decorously, “that the expression is locally applied to what I may call a plume or a feather that is worn on various parts of the sheep’s back, for a mark, as I might say, of distinction.”

“Thank you, Mr. Byrne, thank you,” said Mr. Heraty, to whose imagination a vision of a plumed or feathered sheep seemed to offer nothing unusual, “remember that now, William!”

Dr. Lyden looked at his watch.

“Don’t you think Sweeny might go on with his defence?” he remarked.  “About the children, Sweeny—­how many have ye?”

“I have four.”

“And how old are they?”

“There’s one o’ thim is six years an another o’ thim is seven—­”

“Yes, and the other two eight and nine, I suppose?” commented Dr. Lyden.

The defendant remained silent.

“Do ye see now how well he began with the youngest—­the way we’d think ’twas the eldest!” resumed Dr. Lyden.  “I think we may assume that a gorsoon—­male or female—­of eight or nine years is capable of setting a dog on the sheep.”

Here Darcy spoke again.

“He says,” interpreted William, “there isn’t pig nor ass, sheep nor duck, belongin’ to him that isn’t heart-scalded with the same childhren an’ their dog.”

“Well, I say now, an’ I swear it,” said Sweeny, his eye kindling like a coal, and his voice rising as the core of what was probably an old neighbourly grudge was neared, “my land is bare from his bastes threspassing on it, and my childhren are in dread to pass his house itself with the kicks an’ the sthrokes himself an’ his mother dhraws on them!  The Lord Almighty knows—­”

“Stop now!” said Mr. Heraty, holding up his hand.  “Stop!  The Lord’s not intherferin’ in this case at all!  It’s me an’ Doctor Lyden has it to settle.”