“No, no, no!” cried Nelligan. “We 'll have it our own way. If Mr. Massingbred will be our Member, we want no help from the Martins.”
“There 's five pounds, and I 'll make it guineas if you like,” said old Hayes, putting a note upon the table; “but the devil a Whig or Tory will ever get more out of Peter Hayes!”
A very good-natured laugh from the others showed how little umbrage the frank avowal excited.
“We 'll not want for money, Peter, make your mind easy about that,” said Dan. “When can you meet the committee, Mr. Massingbred? Could you say to-night?”
“Better to-morrow morning. I must return to Cro' Martin this evening.”
“Certainly,—of course,” said Father Neal, blandly. “You 'll have to come to an understanding with Mr. Martin about the borough, declare what your principles are, and how, upon very mature consideration, you find you can't agree with the opinions of himself and his party.”
Magennis winked significantly at Jack, as though to say, “Listen to him; he 's the man to instruct and direct you;” and the priest resumed:—
“Go on to explain that your only utility in the House could arise from your being the exponent of what you feel to be the truth about Ireland, the crying evils of the Established Church, and the present tenure of land! When you throw these two shells in, sir, the town will be on fire. He 'll reply that under these circumstances there 's no more question about your standing for the borough; you'll say nothing,—not a word, not a syllable; you only smile. If Repton 's by—and he 's likely to be—he 'll get hot, and ask you what you mean by that—”
“There 's Scanlan just driving round the corner,” said Magennis, in a whisper; and Massingbred arose at once and drew nigh to the bedside.
“Could I say one word to you alone, Mr. Nelligan?” said he, in a low voice.