“Oh, it’s out of the question—put it out of your head. No rent you can offer would do, for I have promised it to the surveyor.”
“Sir, Mr. Dennis knows my lord gave us his promise in writing of a renewal, on the back of the ould lase.”
“Produce it.”
“Here’s the lase, but the promise is rubbed out.”
“Nonsense! coming to me with a promise that’s rubbed out. Who’ll listen to that in a court of justice, do you think?”
“I don’t know, plase your honour; but this I’m sure of, my lord and Miss Nugent, though but a child at the time, God bless her! who was by when my lord wrote it with his pencil, will remember it.”
“Miss Nugent! what can she know of business?—What has she to do with the management of my Lord Clonbrony’s estate, pray?”
“Management!—no, sir.”
“Do you wish to get Miss Nugent turned out of the house?”
“Oh, God forbid!—how could that be?”