do.

'Och, but it's myself that 'ud like to be batin' ye!' groaned Andy for
the second time, most sincerely. 'Only I'm afeard if I began I wouldn't
know how to lave off, 'twould be so pleasant, ye owdacious villain. Ha!
ye'd throw the stick at me, would ye?' and Mr. Callaghan was across
the fence in a twinkling. Whereupon Nim fairly turned tail, and fled
ignominiously, after having ineffectually discharged a piece of timber,
javelin-wise, at his enemy.

A loud peal of laughter, in a very masculine key, broke upon Andy's ear.
It proceeded from the usually undemonstrative maiden Liberia, who was
bringing a pail of water from the creek when her path was crossed by
the flying pair. From that hour the tides of her feminine heart set in
favour of the conqueror.

'Troth, an' I may as well let ye have the benefit of yer heels, ye
mortal spalpeen,' said Andy, reining himself in. 'An' it's the father
of a good thrashin' I could give ye for yer impidence. To think o' Miss
Linda, that's one of the ould auncient Wynns of Dunore since Adam was a
boy! I donno why I didn't pound him into smithereens when I had him so
'andy on the flat of his back--only for Miss Linda, the darlin' crathur,
telling me not. Sure there isn't a peeler in the whole counthry, nor a
jail neither, for a thousand mile. Now I wondher, av it was a thing I
did bate him black an' blue, whose business would it be to 'rest me;
an' is it before the masther I'd be brought to coort?'

Cogitating thus, and chewing the cud on the end of his sapling, Andy
returned homewards leisurely. His young mistress was nowhere to be seen;
so he picked up the hoe and finished her strawberry bed; and when he saw
the elder Mr. Wynn approaching, he quietly walked off to Davidson's and
took his place among the hive again, as if nothing had happened. Nor did
the faithful fellow ever allude to the episode--with a rare delicacy
judging that the young lady would prefer silence--except once that
Robert asked him what had brought him to Cedar Creek so opportunely.

'Why, thin, didn't I know what the vagabone wanted, lavin' the bee
'athout his dinner, an' goin' down this road, afther me lookin' at him
this twel'month dressing himself out in all the colours of neckties that
ever was in the rainbow, an' saunterin' about the place every Sunday in
particler, an' starin' at her purty face as impident as if he was her
aqual. Often I'd ha' given me best shute of clothes to pluck the two
tails off hi