“He has all along paid the poor-rates, without charging one farthing to the tenant.
“During a season of potato blight, he forgave every tenant paying under ten pounds, half a year's rent; under twenty, a quarter's rent; and over it, twenty per cent. Now, it is such landlords as this that are the best benefactors to the people, to the country, and ultimately to themselves; but, unfortunately, we cannot get them to think so; and I fear that nothing but the iron scourge of necessity will ever teach them their duty, and then, like most other knowledge derived from the same painful source, it will probably come too late. One would imagine a landlord ought to know without teaching, that, when he presses his tenantry until they fall, he must himself fall with them. In truth, I must be off now.”
“Well, then, promise to dine with me tomorrow.”
“If I can I will, then, with pleasure; but still it may be out of my power. I'll try, however. What's your hour?”
“Suit your own convenience: name it yourself.”
“Good honest old five o'clock, then; that is, if I can come at all, but if I cannot, don't be disappointed. The Lord knows I'll do everything in my power to come, at any rate; and if I fail, it won't be my heart that will hinder me.”
When he had gone, the stranger, after a pause, rang his bell, and in a few moments Dandy Dulcimer made his appearance.
“Dandy,” said his master, “I fear we are never likely to trace this woman, Mrs. Norton, whom I am so anxious to find.”
“Begad, plaise your honor, and it isn't but there's enough of them to be had. Sure it's a levy I'm houldin' every day in the week wid them, and only that I'm engaged, as they say, I'd be apt to turn some o' them into Mrs. Dulcimer.”
“How is that, Dandy?”