“‘’Tis at say he ought to be—don’t you think so, captain?’ said the priest——‘them’s trumps.’
“‘I beg your pardon, Father Donellan, let me look at the trick. Well I’m sure I pity you, Miss O’Kelly.’
“‘And why wouldn’t you! his mother had a bad drop in her, ‘tis easy seen. Sure Peter, that’s gone, rest his soul in peace, he never harmed man nor beast; but that child there, has notions of wickedness, that would surprise you. My elegant cornelian necklace he’s taken the stones out of, till it nearly chokes me to put it on.’
“‘When I was in the Buffs, Miss O’Kelly, there was——’
“‘Pay fourpence,’ said the priest pettishly, and cut the cards. As I was saying, I’d send him to say, and if the stories be thrue, I hear, he’s not ill fitted for it; he does be the most of his time up there at the caves of Ballybunnion, with the smugglers.’
“My aunt crimsoned a little at this, as I could see from my place on the hearth rug: for it was only the day before, I had brought in a package of green tea, obtained from the quarter alluded to.
“‘I’d send him to Banagher to-morrow,’ said he, resolutely; ‘I’d send him to school.’
“‘There was one Clancy, I was saying, a great devil he was—’
“‘And faix ould Martin will flog his tricks out of him, if birch will do it,’ said the priest.
“‘’Tis only a fortnight since he put hot cinders in the letterbox, and burned half the Dublin bag,’ said Mrs. Brown. ‘The town will be well rid of him.’