“Ah, ha! ay dhin—an' she milked well too—a good cow—a brave cheehony she was for him.”
“An' why did he give it up?”
“Fwhy—fwhy, afeard he'd be diskivered, to be sure; an' dhin shure he couldn't hunt wid de dinnaousais—wid de gentlemans.”
“An' what if he's discovered now?”
“Fwhat?—fwhy so much the worsher for you an' me: he's ginerous now an' den, anyway; but a great rogue afther all, fwher so high a hid as he carries.”
“If I don't mistake,” proceeded Hogan, “either himself or his family, anyhow, will be talked of before this time to-morrow.”
“Eh, Batt?” asked the other, who had changed his position and sat beside him during this dialogue—“how is dhat now?”
“I don't rightly know—I can't say,” replied Hogan, with a smile murderously grim but knowing—“I'm not up; but the sportheen's a made boy, I think.”
“Dher cheerna! you are up,” said Teddy, giving him a furious glance as he spoke; “there must be no saycrits, I say.”
“You're a blasted liar, I tell you—I am not, but I suspect—that's all.”