"'Pon my soul, it's true."
"Why, he sent him a blister,—a regular apothecary's blister,—instead of some law-process, by way of a joke, and Ned wouldn't stand it."
Durfy held a moment's conversation with Murphy, who now advanced to the squire, and begged to assure him there must be some mistake in the business, for that he had never committed the impertinence of which he was accused.
"All I know is," said the squire, "that I got a blister, which my messenger said you gave him."
"By virtue of my oath, squire, I never did it! I gave Andy an enclosure of the law-process."
"Then it's some mistake that vagabond has made," said the squire. "Come here, you sir!" he shouted to Andy, who was trembling under the angry eye of Dick the Devil, who, having detected a bit of lead on the point of the pricker, guessed in a moment Andy had been at work; and the unfortunate rascal had a misgiving that he had made some blunder, from the furious look of Dick.
"Why don't you come here when I call you?" said the squire.—Andy laid down the pistol-case, and sneaked up to the squire.—"What did you do with the letter Mr. Murphy gave you for me yesterday?"
"I brought it to your honour."
"No, you didn't," said Murphy. "You've made some mistake."
"Divil a mistake I made," answered Andy very stoutly; "I wint home the minit you give it to me."