"That's elegant!" said Murphy.
"He's come to enlighten us, Murtough," said Dick.
"And maybe, we won't return the compliment," said Murtough. "Just let me put on my boots. Hilloa, you Larry! saddle the grey. Don't you cut the pup's ears till I come home! and if Mr. Ferguson sends over for the draft of the lease, tell him it won't be ready till to-morrow. Molly! Molly! where are you, you old divil? Sew on that button for me—I forgot to tell you yesterday—make haste! I won't delay you a moment, Dick. Stop a minute, though. I say, Lanty Houligan—mind, on your peril, you old vagabone, don't let them fight that badger without me. Now, Dick, I'll be with you in the twinkling of a bedpost, and do the Englishman, and that smart! Bad luck to their conceit! they think we can do nothing regular in Ireland."
On his arrival at Merryvale and hearing how matters stood, Murtough Murphy was in a perfect agony of delight in anticipating the mystification of the kidnapped agent. Dick's intention had been to take him along with them on their canvass, and openly engage him in all their electioneering movements; but to this Murphy objected, as running too great a risk of discovery. He recommended rather to engage Furlong in amusements which would detain him from O'Grady and his party, and gain time for their side; and get out of him all the electioneering plot of the other party, indirectly; but to have as little real electioneering business as possible. "If you do, Dick," said Murphy, "take my word, we shall betray ourselves somehow or other—he could not be so soft as not to see it; but let us be content to amuse him with all sorts of absurd stories of Ireland—and the Irish—tell him magnificent lies—astonish him with grand materials for a note-book, and work him up to publish—that's the plan, sir!"
The three conspirators now joined the family party, which had just sat down to breakfast; Dick, in his own jolly way, hoped Furlong had slept well.
"Vewy," said Furlong, as he sipped his tea with an air of peculiar nonchalance which was meant to fascinate Fanny Dawson, who, when Furlong addressed to her his first silly common-place, with his peculiar non-pronunciation of the letter R, established a lisp directly, and it was as much as her sister, Mrs. Egan, could do to keep her countenance, as Fanny went on slaughtering the S's as fast as Furlong ruined R's.
"I'll twouble you for a little mo' queam," said he, holding forth his cup and saucer with an affected air.
"Perhapth you'd like thum more theugar," lisped Fanny, lifting the sugar-tongs with an exquisite curl of her little finger.
"I'm glad to hear you slept well," said Dick to Furlong.
"To be sure he slept well," said Murphy; "this is the sleepiest air in the world."