ment of several farms on the Clonbrony estate, to be set by
Nicholas Garraghty, Esq. He could not help smiling at his being witness
incognito to various schemes for outwitting the agents and defrauding
the landlord; but, on a sudden, the scene was changed; a boy ran in,
crying out, that 'St. Dennis was riding down the hill into the town;
and, if you would not have the license,' said the boy, 'take care of
yourself.'

'IF YOU WOULDN'T HAVE THE LICENCE,' Lord Colambre perceived, by what
followed, meant, 'IF YOU HAVE NOT A LICENCE.' Brannagan immediately
snatched an untasted glass of whisky from a customer's lips (who cried,
Murder!) gave it and the bottle he held in his hand to his wife, who
swallowed the spirits, and ran away with the bottle and glass into some
back hole; whilst the bystanders laughed, saying, 'Well thought of,
Peggy!'

'Clear out all of you at the back door, for the love of heaven, if you
wouldn't be the ruin of me,' said the man of the house, setting a ladder
to a corner of the shop. 'Phil, hoist me up the keg to the loft,' added
he, running up the ladder; 'and one of YEES step up street, and give
Rose M'Givney notice, for she's selling too.'

The keg was hoisted up; the ladder removed; the shop cleared of all
the customers; the shutters shut; the door barred; the counter cleaned.
'Lift your stones, sir, if you plase,' said the wife, as she rubbed the
counter, 'and say nothing of what you SEEN at all; but that you're a
stranger and a traveller seeking a lodging, if you're questioned, or
waiting to see Mr. Dennis. There's no smell of whisky in it now, is
there, sir?'

Lord Colambre could not flatter her so far as to say this--he could only
hope no one would perceive it.

'Oh, and if he would, the smell of whisky was nothing,' as the wife
affirmed, 'for it was everywhere in nature, and no proof again' any one,
good or bad.'

'Now St. Dennis may come when he will, or old Nick himself!' So she tied
up a blue handkerchief over her head, and had the toothache, 'very bad.'

Lord Colambre turned to look for the man of the house.

'He's safe in bed,' said the wife.

'In bed! When?'

'Whilst you turned your head, while I was tying the handkerchief over my
face. Within the room, look, he is snug.'

And there he was in bed certainly, and his clothes on the chest.

A knock, a loud knock at the door.

'St. Dennis himself!--Stay, till I unbar the door,' said the woman; and,
making a great difficulty,