"How are you, Thady, this morning?" said the Captain, offering his hand, which the other reluctantly took.
"Good morning, Captain Ussher."
"Did you hear, Thady, I caught another of your boys with malt up at Loch Sheen last Monday,—Joe Reynolds, or Tim Reynolds, or something? He's safe in Carrick."
"I did hear you got a poor boy up there, who was in it by chance, and took him off just for nothing. But he's no tenant of ours, so I have nothing to do with it; his brother Joe lives on our land."
"Do you mean to tell me, Thady, you believe all that d——d nonsense about knowing nothing about it; and he sitting there in the cabin, and the malt hadn't been in it half an hour?"
"I don't know what you call d——d nonsense, Captain Ussher; but I suppose I may believe what I please without going to Carrick Gaol too for it."
"Believe what you please for me, Master Thady. Why you seem to have got out of bed the wrong side this morning; or have you and Keegan been striking up some new tiff about the 'rints?'"
"Mr. Keegan's affairs with me arn't any affairs of yours, Captain Ussher. When I ask you to set them right, then you can talk to me about them."
"Hoity toity, Mr. Macdermot; your affairs, and Mr. Keegan's affairs, and my affairs! Why I suppose you'll be calling me out next for taking up a d——d whining thief of a fellow because his brother is a tenant of your father's, and send me the challenge by Mr. Brady, who invited me to a party at his house just now."
Thady said nothing to this, but stood with his back to the fire, looking as grim as death.