“Call him in here. I want to speak to him. What are you doing here, Sir? I told you to leave this.” This stern speech was addressed to Hennesy, who, with evident signs of sorrow on his face, stood half hid beside the door.
“I was hopin’ your honour wouldn’t torn me out after nine years’ sarvice, when I never did or said one word to displaze you.”
“Away with you—be off—I have no time to parley with fellows like you. Come in here, Harry,” and he laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and led him into his room. “I’m sending a boat over to Westport; would you like to go in her?”
“Wouldn’t I?” said the boy, as his eyes flashed wildly.
“You are in want of clothes, and you could go to Sweeney’s and get measured for a suit.”
“I do not care for the clothes; but I’d like the sail. Isn’t Tim Hennesy to go?”
“Hennesy is not to go. Maher is to command the boat.”
“I’d rather have Tim; but I don’t care.”
“Be ready, then, in half an hour.”
“I’m ready now.”