Barney, the
post-boy, is just bringing it."

"Well, where is it?" replied Rainscourt.

"He says that it's two thirteens that must be paid for it, and the dirty
spalpeen of a postmaster told him not to give you the letter without the
money for it in his fist."

"Tell Barney to step in here--have you two shillings, Mrs Rainscourt?"

"Not one, Mr Rainscourt," replied the lady, gloomily.

The nurse reappeared with Barney.

"Well, Barney, where's the letter?" said Mr Rainscourt; "let me look at
it."

"Sure, your honour, it's not me that's refusing it ye. But the master
tould me--`Barney,' says he, `if you give his honour the letter without
the two thirteens in your fist, it's a good bating that I'll give ye
when ye come back.'"

"Well, but, Barney, let me look at it, and see by the postmark where
it's from. I shall know, directly, whether I will take it up or not."

"And suppose that your honour should wish to open the letter! It's not
for gentlemen like ye to be standing against the temptation;--and then,
the two thirteens, your honour."

"Well, Barney, since you won't trust me, and I have no money, you must
take the letter back. It might bring me good news--I have had nothing
but bad of late."

"And sure enough it might bring you good news. Then, your honour shall
take the letter and I'll take the _bating_;" and the good-natured lad
pulled out the letter from his pocket, and gave it to Rainscourt.

Rainscourt, who first wished to ascertain whether it was one of his
usual dunning correspondents, examined the post-mark and handwriting of
the superscription, that he might return it unopened, and save poor
Barney from the beating which he had volunteered to receive for his
sake, but the hand was unknown to him, and the post-mark was so faint
and illegible that he could not decipher it. He looked into the sides
of the letter, and the few words which he could read whetted his
curiosity.

"I'm afraid, Barney, that I must open it."

"Good luck to your honour, then, and may it prove so."

The letter was opened, and the contents threw a gleam of pleasure, which
had been rarely seen of late on the brow of the reader. His wife had
watched his countenance. "Barney," cried Rainscourt, with delight,
"call to-morrow, and I'll give you a guinea."

"Sure your honour's in luck, and me too," replied Barney, grinning, and
backing out of the room. "I'll go take my bating at once."

But, to explain the contents of