"Why didn't you hold her, you thief?"
"Hould her, indeed!—you just might as well expect to stop fire among flax as that one."
"Well, be off with you now, Andy, and take care of what I gave you for the squire."
"Oh, never fear, sir," said Andy, as he turned his horse's head homewards. He stopped at the apothecary's in the village, to execute his commission for the "misthis." On telling the son of Galen that he wanted some physic "for one o' the childre up at the big house," the dispenser of the healing art asked what physic he wanted.
"Faith, I dunna what physic."
"What's the matter with the child?"
"He's sick, sir."
"I suppose so, indeed, or you wouldn't be sent for medicine, you're always making some blunder. You come here, and don't know what description of medicine is wanted."
"Don't I?" said Andy, with a great air.
"No, you don't, you omadhaun!" said the apothecary.