e religion ever rested
on you, an' now I'm afeard no signs on it."

"Well, well, who's widout sin? I'm sure I'm not. What I want is, to know
if you'll credit me for a hundred of meal till the times mends a trifle.
I have the six o' them at home widout their dinner this day, an' must go
widout if you refuse me. When the harvest comes round, I'll pay you."

"Jemmy, you owe three half-year's, rent; an' as for the harvest an' what
it'll bring, only jist look at the day that's in it. It goes to my heart
to refuse you, poor man; but Jemmy, you see you have brought this on
yourself. If you had been an attentive, industrious man, an' minded
your religion, you wouldn't be as you are now. Six you have at home, you
say?"

"Ay, not to speak of the woman; an' myself. I know you won't, refuse
them, Darby, bekase if we're hard pushed now, it's, a'most every body's
case as well as mine. Be what I may, you know I'm honest."

"I don't doubt your honesty, Jemmy; but Jemmy, if I sell my meal to a
man that can pay and won't, or if I sell my meal to a man that would pay
and can't, by which do I lose most? There it is, Jemmy--think o' that
now. Six in family, you say?"

"Six in family, wid the woman an' myself."

"The sorra man livin' feels more for you than I do, an' I would let you
have the meal if I could; but the truth is, I'm makin' up my rent--an'
Jemmy, I lost so much last year by my foolish good nature, an' I gave
away so much on trust, that now I'm brought to a hard pass myself. Troth
I'll fret enough this night for havin' to refuse you. I know it was rash
of me to make the promise I did; but still, God forbid that ever any man
should be able to throw it in my face, an' say that Darby Skinadre ever
broke his promise."

"What promise?"

"Why, never to sell a pound of meal on trust."

"God help us, then!--for what to do or where to go I don't know."

"It goes to my heart, Jemmy, to refuse you--six in family, an' the two
of yourselves. Troth it does, to my very heart itself; but stay, maybe
we may manage it. You have no money, you say?"

"No money now, but won't be so long, plaise God."

"Well, but haven't you value of any kind?--: sure, God help them, they
can't starve, poor cratures--the Lord pity them!" Here he wiped away a
drop of villainous rheum which ran down his cheek, and he did it with
such an appearance of sympathy, that almost any one would have imagined
it was a tear of compassion for the distresses of the poo