"An' where'll you take the brideen—Miss Katey—the darlin'?" said Cahill with a jocose wink.
"Curse you, villain! you'll drive me to give you a token on that head of yours you'll remember until—you see me again, at all events," cried Hewitt passionately. "Thank God, I'm 'most done with you. Have you brought the money?"
"Sorrow a sixpence, jewel. I had the arrears an' costs to pay this mornin', a'n I'm run dhry teetotally; that's the thruth."
"Then all my plan's gone for nothing!" said Hewitt. "In the fiend's name, what brought you here, then?"
"Jest a thrifle o' business up the road," answered Curly, "an' a great wish intirely for you, Capting."
"And she prepared and all!" continued Hewitt abstractedly. "I thought I was done with it for ever.... Go back, I implore you, Cahill, and raise me fifty pounds in any way. I am perfectly penniless."
"I couldn't raise you fifty farthens—I could not, 'pon my word and honour to you, Capting."
"Then I give up the business," replied Hewitt.
"An' the fair-haired girleen, an' her goold, an' what's betther, I know, to you, her goodwill; an' the land, an' the laugh at Lysaght"——and Cahill ran on rising towards his climax.
"I can't stand this; d—n you," cried his hearer. "Since you won't aid me, I must try the old treasury once more."