grip, leaving the lappel of his coat in his
possession; and Tom Durfy interposed his person between them when he
saw an intention on the part of the flagellator to repeat his dose of
horsewhip.

"Let me at him, sir, or by----"

"Fie, fie, squire!--to horsewhip a gentleman like a cart-horse."

"A gentleman!--an attorney you mean."

"I say a gentleman, Squire Egan," cried Murtough fiercely, roused to
gallantry by the presence of a lady, and smarting under a sense of
injury and whalebone. "I'm a gentleman, sir, and demand thesatisfaction
of a gentleman. I put my honour into your hands, Mr. Durfy."

"Between his finger and thumb, you mean, for there's not a handful of
it," said the squire.

"Well, sir," replied Tom Durfy, "little or much, I'll take charge of
it. That's right, my cock," said he to Murtough, who notwithstanding
his desire to assume a warlike air, could not resist the natural
impulse of rubbing his back and shoulders which tingled with pain,
while he exclaimed, "Satisfaction! satisfaction!"

"Very well," said the squire, "you name yourself as Mr. Murphy's
friend?" added he to Durfy.

"The same, sir," said Tom. "Whom do you name as yours?"

"I suppose you know one Dick the Divil?"

"A very proper person, sir;--no better: I'll go to him directly."

The widow clung to Tom's arm, and looking tenderly at him, cried, "Oh,
Tom, Tom, take care of your precious life!"

"Bother!" said Tom.

"Ah, Squire Egan, don't be so bloodthirsty!"

"Fudge, woman!" said the squire.

"Ah, Mr. Murphy, I'm sure the squire's very sorry for beating you."

"Divil a bit," said the squire.

"There, ma'am," said Murphy, "you see he'll make no apology."

"Apology!" said Durfy, "apology for a horsewhipping, indeed! Nothing
but handing a horsewhip (which I wouldn't ask any gentleman to do), or
a shot, can settle the matter."

"Oh, Tom! Tom! Tom!" said the widow.

"Ba! ba! ba!" shouted Tom, making a crying face at her. "Arrah, woman,
don't be making a fool of yourself. Go in to the 'pothecary's, and get
something under your nose to revive you: and let _us_ mind our _own_
business."

The widow with her eyes turned up, and an exclamation to Heaven, was
retiring to M'Garry's shop, wringing her hands, when she was nearly
knocked down by M'Garry himself, who rushed from his own door, at the
same moment that an awful smash of his shop-window and the demolition
of his blue and red bottles alarmed the ears of the bystanders, wh