I, eyeing the pair, "what mischief have you two been
compassing?"

Paddy only mumbled sulkily. It was something on the difficulties of
satisfying me on the subjects of little black men and papers. Jem
Bottles was also sulky, but he grumbled out the beginning of an
explanation.

"Well, master, I bided under the tree till him here came, and then we
together bided. And at last we thought, with the time so heavy, we
might better work to handle a purse or two. Thinking," he said
delicately, "our gentleman might have need of a little gold. Well, and
as we were riding, a good lad from the--your worship knows
where--tells us the Earl's carriage is halting there for a time, but
will go on later without its escort of two gentlemen; only with
servants. And, thinking to do our gentleman a good deed, I brought
them to stand on the highway, and then he--"

"And then I," broke in Paddy proudly, "walks up to the carriage-door
looking like a king's cruiser, and says I, 'Pray excuse the manners of
a self-opinionated man, but I consider your purses would look better
in my pocket.' And then there was a great trouble. An old owl of a
woman screeched, and was for killing me with a bottle which she had
been holding against her nose. But she never dared. And with that an
old sick man lifted himself from hundreds of cushions and says he,
'What do you want? You can't have them,' says he, and he keeps
clasping his breast. 'First of all,' says I, 'I want what you have
there. What I want else I'll tell you at my leisure.' And he was all
for mouthing and fuming, but he was that scared he gave me these
papers--bad luck to them." Paddy cast an evil eye upon the papers in
my hand.

"And then?" said I.

"The driver he tried for to whip up," interpolated Jem Bottles. "He
was a game one, but the others were like wet cats."

"And says I," continued Paddy, "'now we will have the gold, if it
please you.' And out it came. 'I bid ye a good journey,' says I, and I
thought it was over, and how easy it was highwaying, and I liked it
well, until the lady on the front seat opens her hood and shows me a
prettier face than we have in all Ireland. She clasps two white hands.
'Oh, please Mister Highwayman, my father's papers--' And with that I
backs away. 'Let them go,' says I to Jem Bottles, and sick I was of
it, and I would be buying masses to-night if I might find a Christian
church. The poor lady!"

I was no longer angry with Paddy.

"Aye," said Jem Bot