"I knows, Masther Thady; I knows all about it. Tim has between five and six acres, and he owes twenty-two pound tin; his oats is worth, maybe, five pound fifteen,—from that to six pound, and his cow about six pound more; that's all Tim has, barring the brats and the mother of them. An' he knows right well, yer honor, if he brings you the price of the oats, you wouldn't let him off that way; for the cow should folly the oats, as is nathural; the cabin would be saized next; so Tim ses, if you choose to take the corn yourself, you can do so;—well an' good, and save him the throuble of bringin' it to Mohill."
"Did the widow Reynolds sell her pig?"
"She did, yer honor, for two pound tin."
"And she owes seven pound. And Dan Coulahan—"
"Dan didn't cut the oats, good or bad."
"I'll cut it for him, then. Was ould Tierney there?"
"He war, yer honor; and I was tellin' him yer honor 'id be wantin' the money this week, an' I axed him to stip up o' Friday mornin'; an', sis I, 'Misthur Tierney'—for since he made out the mare and the ould car, it's Misthur Tierney he goes by—'it's a fine saison any way for the corn,' sis I, 'the Lord be praised; an' the hay all saved on thim illigant bottoms of yours, Misthur Tierney. The masther was glad to hear the cocks was all up afore the heavy rain was come.' 'Well, Pat,' sis he, 'I'll be at Ballycloran o' Friday, plase God, but it's little I'll have with me but myself; an' if the masthur likes the corn an' the hay, he may just take them av' it's plazin' to him, for the divil a cock or grain will I sell, an' the prices so bad.'"
"Obstinate ould fool! why, Pat, he must have the money."
"Money, to be shure he has the money, Misthur Thady; but maybe he'd be the bigger fool if he gave it to your father."
"Do the boys mane to say they won't pay the rent at all?"