“That's an ugly cut, and mighty near the eye! But sure, after all, you 're his child.”
“Very true, sir; it's only paternal correction; but I have something else!”
“What's that, Con my boy?” said he; for we were now grown very familiar.
“It is this, sir,” said I; “this roll of papers that I found hid in the thatch,—a safe place my father used to make his strong-box.”
“Let us see!” said Morissy, sitting down and opening the package. Many were old summonses discharged, notices to quit withdrawn, and so on; but at last he came to two papers pinned together, at sight of which he almost jumped from his chair. “Con,” says he, “describe the place you found them in.”
I went over all the discovery again.
“Did ye yourself see your father put in papers there?”
“I did, sir.”
“On more than one occasion?”
“At least a dozen times, sir.”