th earnestness,
"Willy Reilly, dere's news for you--for de squire too--bad news--God's
sake come wid Tom--you tall too, Willy Reilly, but not tall as Tom is."

"What is the matter, Tom?" asked Reilly; "you look alarmed."

"God's sake, here, Willy Reilly," replied the kind-hearted fool, "come
wid Tom. Bad news."

"Hallo!" exclaimed the squire, "what is the matter? Is this Tom Steeple?
Go to the kitchen, Tom, and get one of your 'bully dinners'--my poor
fellow--off with you--and a pot of beer, Tom."

An expression of distress, probably heightened by his vague and
unconscious sense of the squire's kindness, was depicted strongly on his
countenance, and ended in a burst of tears.

"Ha!" exclaimed Reilly, "poor Tom, sir, was with us to-night on our
duck-shooting excursion, and, now that I remember, remained behind us
in the old ruin--and then he is in tears. What can this mean? I will go
with you, Tom--excuse me, sir, for a few minutes--there can be no harm
in hearing what he has to say."

He accompanied the fool, with whom he remained for about six or eight
minutes, after which he re-entered the parlor with a face which strove
in vain to maintain its previous expression of ease and serenity.

"Well, Willy?" said the squire--"you see, by the way, I make an old
acquaintance of you--"

"You do me honor, sir," replied Reilly. "Well, what was this mighty
matter? Not a fool's message, I hope? eh!"

"No, sir," said the other, "but a matter of some importance."

"John," asked his master, as the butler entered, "did you give those
worthy fellows the money?"

"No, your honor," replied the other, they were gone before I went out."

"Well, well," replied his master, "it can't be helped. You will excuse
me, Mr.--a--a--yes--Mr. Reilly--Willy--Willy--ay, that's it--you will
excuse me, Willy, for not bringing you to the drawing room. The fact is,
neither of us is in a proper trim to go there--both travel-soiled, as
they say--you with duck-shooting and I with a long ride--besides, I
am quite too much fatigued to change my dress--John, some Madeira. I'm
better than I was--but still dreadfully exhausted and afterwards, John,
tell your mistress that her father wishes to see her here. First, the
Madeira, though, till I recruit myself a little. A glass or two will do
neither of us any harm, Willy, but a great deal of good. God bless me!
what an escape I've had! what a dreadful fate you rescued me from, my
young friend and preserver