e looked plaguy handsome, wicked, and
good-natured.

'Mary Matchwell, indeed! _I'll_ match her well, wait a while, you'll see
if I don't. I'll pay her off yet, never mind, Sally, darling. Arrah!
Don't be crying, child, do you hear me. _What's_ that? _Charles?_ Why,
then, is it about Charles you're crying? Charles Nutter? Phiat! woman
dear! don't you think he's come to an age to take care of himself? I'll
hold you a crown he's in Dublin with the sheriff, going to cart that
jade to Bridewell. And why in the world didn't you send for _me_, when
you wanted to discourse with Mary Matchwell? Where was the good of my
poor dear mother? Why, she's as soft as butter. 'Twas a devil like me
you wanted, you poor little darling. Do you think I'd a let her frighten
you this way--the vixen--I'd a knocked her through the window as soon as
look at her. She saw with half an eye she could frighten you both, you
poor things. Oh! ho! how I wish I was here. I'd a put her across my knee
and--_no_--do you say? Pooh! you don't know me, you poor innocent little
creature; and, do ye mind now, you must not be moping here. Sally
Nutter, all alone, you'll just come down to us, and drink a cup of tea
and play a round game and hear the news; and look up now and give me a
kiss, for I like you, Sally, you kind old girl.'

And she gave her a hug, and a shake, and half-a-dozen kisses on each
cheek, and laughed merrily, and scolded and kissed her again.

Little more than an hour after, up comes a little _billet_ from the
good-natured Magnolia, just to help poor little Sally Nutter out of the
vapours, and vowing that no excuse should stand good, and that come she
must to tea and cards. 'And, oh! what do you think?' it went on. 'Such a
bit a newse, I'm going to tell you, so prepare for a chock;' at this
part poor Sally felt quite sick, but went on. 'Doctor Sturk, that droav
into town Yesterday, as grand as you Please, in Mrs. Strafford's coach,
all smiles and Polightness--whood a bleeved! Well He's just come back,
with two great Fractions of his skull, riding on a Bear, insensible into
The town--there's for you. Only Think of poor Mrs. Sturk, and the Chock
she's got on sight of Him: and how thankful and Pleasant you should be
that Charles Nutter is not a Corpes in the Buchar's wood, and jiggin
Home to you like Sturk did. But well in health, what I'm certain shure
he is, taken the law of Mary Matchwell--bless the Mark--to get her
emprisind and Publickly wipe