"Oh, this doesn't refer to that impartial relative of all impoverished humanity! This is, or was, the man who prevented my father from being the eldest son and only child of his parents! By his demise——"
"Precisely, sorr. And which av his qualifications may his demise be?"
"The final one. Demise means death. Oh, not the commonplace, every-day occurrence as we up here experience it; it is applied to those who have something of value besides life to leave behind."
"Faith, then, sergeant, it's ourselves will be immune."
"That's what I'm doubting. Five minutes since, I was nobody of nowhere. Now I suddenly find myself gazetted Sir Gerald Scarlett of Dunshinannon, owner of a picturesque, if ruined, castle; three acres that might be profitable under cultivation, and a cow!"
Barney shook his head. "A grand dream, Sergeant. May the blissed saints soften the awakening to ye," he added, with commiseration.
"But, man—here, look at this, will ye?" Before his astonished eyes Scarlett held a draft for a substantial sum. "A luck-slice from the rent-roll. Oh, that proves it no dream, since money talks, but never in its sleep!"
Barney removed his regimental hat. "Hurrah for Sir Gerald, the castle, including the ruins, the acres, and ivery blissed pertaty, past, present and to come, adorning them!"
"And the cow, God bless her!" Scarlett also bared his head.
"Amen!" Barney supplemented, fervently. "I'm wid ye, sorr, in prosperity, as in adversity! How soon do we quit the service, me lordship?"