"More power to him in that," said Philip; "if he makes a beggarman of
him he may depend on us to the back-bone."

"Have no hand in injurin' Bryan M'Mahon," said Kate. "Keep him from
marryin' Kathleen if you like, or if you can; but, if you're wise, don't
injure the boy."

"Why so?" asked Philip.

"That's nothing to you," she replied; "for a raison I have; and mark me,
I warn you not to do so or it'll be worse for you."

"Why, who are we afraid of, barrin Hycy himself?"

"It's no matther; there's them livin' could make you afeard, an' maybe
will, too, if you injure that boy."

"I'd just knock him on the head," replied the ferocious ruffian, "as
soon as I would a mad dog."

"Whisht," said Phats, "here's Hycy; don't you hear his foot?"

Hycy entered in a few moments afterwards, and, after the usual
greetings, sat down by the fire.

"De night's could," said Phats, resuming his brogue; "but here," he
added, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, "is something to warm de blood
in us. Will you thry it, Meeisther Hycy?"

"By-and-by--not now; but help yourselves."

"When did you see Miss Kathleen, Masther Hycy," asked Kate.

"You mean Miss Kathleen the Proud?" he replied--"my Lady Dignity--I have
a crow to pluck with her."

"What crow have you to pluck wid her?" asked Kate, fiercely. "You'll
pluck no crow wid her, or, if you do, I'll find a bag to hould the
fedhers--mind that."

"No, no," said Philip; "whatever's to be done, she must come to no
harm."

"Why, the crow I have to pluck with her, Mrs. Hogan, is--let me
see--why--to--to marry her--to bind her in the bands of holy wedlock;
and you know, when I do, I'm to give you all a house and place free
gratis for nothing during your lives--that's what I pledge myself to do,
and not a rope to hang yourselves, worthy gentlemen, as Finigan would
say. I pass over the fact," he proceeded, laughing, "of the peculiar
intimacy which, on a certain occasion, was established between Jemmy,
the gentleman's old oak drawers, and your wrenching-irons; however, that
is not the matter at present, and I am somewhat in a hurry."

"You heard," said Bat, "that Bryan M'Mahon has lost his mother?"

"I did," said the other; "poor orphan lad, I pity him."

"We know you do," said Bat, with a vindictive but approving sneer.

"I assure you," continued Hycy, "I wish the young man well."

"Durin' der lives," repeated Phats, who had evidently been pondering
over Hycy's promised gift to the H