ommon sense, and the respectful feeling
he ought to show to both you an' me, Rosha," said Burke; "if he expects
to have either luck or grace, or the blessing of God upon him, he'll
change his coorses, an' not keep breakin' my heart as he's doin'."

"Will you pay for the mare I bought, father?" asked Hycy, very
seriously. "I have already told you, that I paid three guineas earnest;
I hope you will regard your name and family so far as to prevent me from
breaking my word--besides leading the world to suppose that you are a
poor man."

"Regard my name and family!" returned the father, with a look of
bitterness and sorrow; "who is bringin' them into disgrace, Hycy?"

"In the meantime," replied the son, "I have asked a plain question, Mr.
Burke, and I expect a plain answer; will you pay for the mare?"

"An' supposin' I don't?"

"Why, then, Mr. Burke, if you don't you won't, that's all."

"I must stop some time," replied his father, "an' that is now. I wont
pay for her."

"Well then, sir, I shall feel obliged, as your respectable wife has just
said, if you will allow me to eat, and if possible, live in peace."

"I'm speakin' only for your--"

"That will do now--hush--silence if you please."

"Hycy dear," said the mother; "why would you ax him another question
about it? Drop the thing altogether."

"I will, mother, but I pity you; in the meantime, I thank you, ma'am, of
your advice."

"Hycy," she continued, with a view of changing the conversation; "did
you hear that Tom M'Bride's dead?"

"No ma'am, but I expected it; when did he die?"

Before his father could reply, a fumbling was heard at the hall-door;
and, the next moment, Hogan, thrust in his huge head and shoulders began
to examine the lock by attempting to turn the key in it.

"Hogan, what are you about?" asked Hycy.

"I beg your pardon," replied the ruffian; "I only wished to know if the
lock wanted mendin'--that was all, Misther Hycy."

"Begone, sirra," said the other; "how dare you have the presumption to
take such a liberty? you impudent scoundrel! Mother, you had better pay
them," he added; "give the vagabonds anything they ask, to get rid of
them."

Having dined, her worthy son mixed a tumbler of punch, and while
drinking it, he amused himself, as was his custom, by singing snatches
of various songs, and drumming with his fingers upon the table; whilst
every now and then he could hear the tones of his mother's voice in high
altercation with