s walked on, and the letter M. in Mary
was tore across, an' on the back was writ, in red ink, for Mrs.
Macnamara, and they could not read it down at the Barracks, because the
wet had got at it, and the end was mostly washed away, and they thought
it was MacNally, or MacIntire; but I knew it the minute I seen it.'

'Well, my tight little fellow, and what the dickens has all that to do
with the matter?' asked Toole, growing uneasy.

'The dickens a much, I believe, Sir; only as Mr. Nutter was goin' out he
snatched it out o' my hand--in the hall there--and stuffed it into his
pocket.'

'You did not tell that lying story, did you, about the town, you
mischievous young spalpeen?' demanded the doctor, shaking his disciple
rather roughly by the arm.

'No--I--I didn't--I did not tell, Sir--what is it to me?' answered the
boy, frightened.

'You didn't tell--not you, truly. I lay you a tenpenny-bit there isn't a
tattler in the town but has the story by rote--a pretty kettle o' fish
you'll make of it, with your meddling and lying. If 'twas true, 'twould
be another matter, but--hold your tongue;--how the plague are you to
know one card from another when they're all alike, and Mrs. Macnamara,
Mrs. Macfiddle. I suppose _you_ can read better than the _adjutant_, ha,
ha! Well, mind my words, you've got yourself into a pretty predicament;
I'd walk twice from this to the county court-house and back again, only
to look at it; a pleasant cross-hackling the counsellors will give you,
and if you prevaricate--you know what that is, my boy--the judge will
make short work with you, and you may cool your heels in gaol as long as
he pleases, for me.'

'And, look'ee,' said Toole, returning, for he was going out, as he
generally did, whenever he was profoundly ruffled; 'you remember the
affidavit-man that was whipped and pilloried this time two years for
perjury, eh? Look to it, my fine fellow. There's more than me knows how
Mr. Nutter threatened to cane you that night--and a good turn 'twould
have been--and 'twouldn't take much to persuade an honest jury that you
wanted to pay him off for that by putting a nail in his coffin, you
young miscreant! Go on--do--and I promise you'll get an airing yet
you'll not like--you will.'

And so Toole, with a wag of his head, and a grin over his shoulder,
strutted out into the village street, where he was seen, with a pursed
mouth, and a flushed visage, to make a vicious cut or two with his cane
in the a