"I haven't it, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"He wouldn't give it to me, sir."
"Who wouldn't give it you?"
"That owld chate beyant in the town—wanting to charge me double for it."
"Maybe it's a double letter. Why the devil didn't you pay what he asked, sir?"
"Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated? It's not a double letther at all: not above half the size o' one Mr. Durfy got before my face for fourpence."
"You'll provoke me to break your neck some day, you vagabond! Ride back for your life, you omadhaun; and pay whatever he asks, and get me the letter."
"Why, sir, I tell you he was sellin' them before my face for fourpence a-piece."
"Go back, you scoundrel! or I'll horsewhip you; and if you're longer than an hour, I'll have you ducked in the horse-pond!"