Now, Sir, I mention these things, not as expecting you
to believe them upon my statement, you see, but simply to enquire of Mr.
Gamble whether they be true or no; and if true, Sir, upon his admission,
then, Sir, I submit we're entitled to your good offices, and the
judicious inthurfarence of the Rev. Mr. Roach, your respectable priest,
Sir.'

'My friend, Sir, not my priest. I'm a Churchman, Sir, as everybody
knows.'

'Of course, Sir--I ask your pardon again, Doctor Toole--Sir, your friend
to induce your client--_-friend_ I mane again, Sir--Mistress Sarah
Harty, formerly housekeeper of Mr. Charless (so he pronounced it)
Nutther, gentleman, of the Mills, and so forth, to surrendher quiet and
peaceable possession of the premises and chattels, and withdraw from her
tortuous occupation dacently, and without provoking the consequences,
which must otherwise follow in the sevarest o' forms;' or, as he
pronounced it, 'fawrums.'

'The sevarest o' grandmothers. Humbug and flummery! Sir,' cried Toole,
most unexpectedly incensed, and quite scarlet.

'D'ye mane I'm a liar, Sir? Is that what you mane?' demanded Dirty Davy,
suddenly, like the doctor, getting rid of his ceremonious politeness.

'I mane what I mane, and that's what I mane,' thundered Toole,
diplomatically.

'Then, tell your _friend_ to prepare for consequences,' retorted Dirty
Davy, with a grin.

'And make my compliments to your client, or conjuror, or wife, or
whatever she is, and tell her that whenever she wants her dirty work
done, there's plenty of other Dublin blackguards to be got to do it,
without coming to Docther Thomas Toole, or the Rev. Father Roach.'

Which sarcasm he delivered with killing significance, but Dirty Davy had
survived worse thrusts than that.

'She's a conjuror, is she? I thank you, Sir.'

'You're easily obliged, Sir,' says Toole.

'We all know what that manes. And these documents _sworn_ to by my
client and myself, is a pack o' lies! Betther and betther! I thank ye
again, Sir.'

'You're welcome, my honey,' rejoined Toole, affectionately.

'An' you live round the corner. I know your hall-door, Sir--a light
brown, wid a brass knocker.'

'Which is a fine likeness iv your own handsome face, Sir,' retorted
Toole.

'An' them two documents, Sir, is a fabrication and a forgery, backed up
wid false affidavits?' continued Mr. O'Reegan.

'Mind that, Larry,' says the doctor, with a sudden inspiration
addressing the waiter, who had pee