"Only they do say he's hard to get to speak to now-a-days. He's not over well, you know, these years back."
"Well or ill he'll see me, I take it, when I go that distance to ask him. There's no doubt about that; is there, Aby?"
"Can't say, I'm sure, not knowing the gentleman," said Aby.
"We holds land from Sir Thomas, we do; that is, me and my brother Mick, and a better landlord ain't nowhere," said Mr. O'Dwyer.
"Oh, you're one of the tenants, are you? The rents are paid pretty well, ain't they?"
"To the day," said Mr. O'Dwyer, proudly.
"What would you think now—" Mr. Mollett was continuing; but Aby interrupted him somewhat violently.
"Hold your confounded stupid tongue, will you, you old jolterhead;" and on this occasion he put his hand on his father's shoulder and shook him.
"Who are you calling jolterhead? Who do you dare to speak to in that way? you impudent young cub you. Am I to ask your leave when I want to open my mouth?"
Aby had well known that his father in his present mood would not stand the manner in which the interruption was attempted. Nor did he wish to quarrel before the publican and his daughter. But anything was better than allowing his father to continue in the strain in which he was talking.