The gentleman repeated his question.
“Troth, no then, yer honor; we've lived here so long we'll just stay our time in it.”
“But the rent is heavy, you say.”
“Well, we'll pay it, plaze God.”
“And I'm sure it's a strange wild place in winter.”
“Its wholesome, any how,” was the short reply.
“I believe I must go back again as wise as I came,” muttered the gentleman. “Come, my good old man,—and you, Owen; I want to know how I can best serve you, for what you've done for me: it was my son you rescued in the fair—”
“Are you the landlord—is yer honor Mr. Leslie?” exclaimed both as they rose from their seats, as horrified as if they had taken such a liberty before Royalty.
“Yes, Owen; and I grieve to say, that I should cause so much surprise to any tenant, at seeing me. I ought to be better known on my property; and I hope to become so: but it grows late, and I must reach the valley before night. Tell me, are you really attached to this farm, or have I any other, out of lease at this time, you like better?”
“I would not leave the ould spot, with yer honor's permission, to get a demesne and a brick house; nor Owen neither.”