"Well, that's what he says," repeated the other. "'I wisht,' he says, 'that Mike had burnt the ould villain in his bed,' says he. That's the very word he said, 'the ould villain' he says; 'an' got shut of him,' says he, 'but it'll be no time at all before herself an' me is back in the ould place,' he says. He did so—it's the truth I'm tellin' ye, that's the very way he said it."
"I'll show him different then," repeated Peter. "I wisht I'd thought of it first off—the way he'd have seen it."
"An' what's that, sir?"
"You'll soon see. 'Pon me word, I wisht I had him there now in his bed, the ould raskil, the way I could do on him what he's wishin' his spalpeen of a son had done on me. Are ye there, Pat?" he cried, raising his voice.
"I am, sir," returned some one from the region of the stables.
"Is Barney there?"
"He is."
"Bring him along wid ye then; an' call Jack McEvoy and a couple more of the boys. Bring a pick wid ye, an' a couple of them hatchets—an' Pat!"
"Sir?" replied Pat, suddenly appearing from behind the stable-wall.
"Run round to the kitchen an' fetch the big bottle of paraffin off o' the long shelf there."