take the house he built, and be d----d to him;
and if we can't build a betther one for the masthur and Miss Feemy
and you, without his help, may praties choke me!"

"By dad, if he'd take the house, and leave the ground, he's my
welcome, and ceade mille faltha, Pat. But the land will stick to the
house; and mark me, when ould Flannelly dies (an' the divil die along
with him), Mr. Keegan of Carrick will write himself, Hyacinth Keegan,
Esquire, of Ballycloran."

"May I nivir see that day, an' he an' I alive, amen," said Brady,
as he crossed himself in sign of the sacred truth of his wish; "but
I think, Masthur Thady, when you come to consider of it, you'll
find plenty of manes of keepin' Mr. Keegan and Mrs. Keegan out of
the parlour of Ballycloran. But about Joe Reynolds, yer honor was
sayin'--"

"I was saying that divil another potato he should dig in Drumleesh,
nor another grain of corn shall he sow or rape; that's what I was
saying."

"Well, Misthur Thady, you're the masthur, thank God, an' if you say
so, it must be done. But Joe Reynolds is not that bad either: he
was sayin' tho' at Mrs. Mulready's that he expected little from yer
honor, but just leave to go where he liked, and lave the cow and the
praties behind him."

"What wor they saying at Mulready's, Pat?"

"They were only jist passin' their remarks, yer honor, about how
thick you war this time back with Captain Ussher; an' Miss Feemy
too, an' the masthur; an' that when the likes of him wor as one of
the family, it's little the likes of them would be gettin' now from
Ballycloran, only hard words, and maybe a help to Carrick Gaol."

"Because Captain Ussher visits at Ballycloran, is that any reason why
he should interfere between my father and his tenants?"

"Sorra a one av me knows then, Misthur Thady; only that the tenants
is no good frinds to the Captain; nor why should they, an' he going
through the counthry with a lot of idle blagguards, with arms, an'
guns, sazin' the poor divils for nothin' at all, only for thryin' to
make out the rint for yer honor, with a thrifle of potheen? That's
quare friendship; ay, an' it's the truth I'm tellin' you, Misthur
Thady, for he's no frind to you or yours. Shure isn't Pat Reynolds
in Ballinamore Bridewell on his account, an' two other boys from
the mountains behind Drumleesh, becaze they found a thrifle of half
malted barley up there among them? an' be the same token, Joe was
sayin', if the frind of the family war