mself! Or the devil the value of a cork he gets out of me;
that's flat! Eh, Phelim?"

"True for you, McMurrough!" the youth who sat beside him answered,
winking. "We'll soak him for you."

"So do you be taking a lesson, Miss Flavvy," the young Hector
continued, "and don't you go threatening honest folk with your whip, or
it'll be about your own shoulders it'll fall! I know what's going on,
and when I want your help, I'll ask it."

The girl's lip trembled. "But it's robbery, James," she murmured.

"To the devil with your robbery!" he retorted, casting a defiant eye
round the table. "They'll pay our dues, and what they get back will be
their own!"

"And it's rich they'll be with it!" Phelim chuckled.

"Ay, faith, it's the proud men they'll be that day!" laughed Morty, his
brother. "Sure, when it comes!" with a wink.

"Fine words, my lad," Uncle Ulick replied quietly; "but it's my opinion
you'll fall on trouble, and more than'll please you, with Crosby of
Castlemaine. And why, I'd like to know? 'Tis a grand trade, and has
served us well since I can remember! Why can't you take what's fair out
of it, and let the poor devil of a sea-captain that's supplied many an
honest man's table have his own, and go his way? Take my word for it,
it's ruing it you'll be, when all's done."

"It's not from Crosby of Castlemaine I'll rue it!" James McMurrough
answered arrogantly. "I'll shoot him like a bog-snipe if he's sorra a
word to say to it! That for him, the black sneak of a Protestant!" And
he snapped his fingers. "But his day will soon be past, and we'll be
dealing with him. The toast is warming for him now!"

Phelim slapped his thigh. "True for you, McMurrough! That's the talk!"

"That's the talk!" chorussed Morty.

The Colonel opened his mouth to speak, but he caught Flavia's look of
distress, and he refrained. And "For my part," Morty continued
jovially, "I'd not wait--for you know what! The gentleman's way's the
better; early or late, Clare or Kerry, 'tis all one! A drink of the
tea, a peppered devil, and a pair of the beauties, is an Irishman's
morning!"

"And many's the poor soul has to mourn it--long and bitterly," the
Colonel said. His tender corn being trod upon, he could be silent no
longer. "For shame, sir, for shame!" he added warmly.

Morty stared. "Begorra, and why?" he cried, in a tone which proved that
he asked the question in perfect innocence.

"Why?" Colonel John repeated. And for a moment, in face