“God save all here,” he exclaimed, “long life and good health to every one of you! Here I am, the rantin' Cannie Soogah, as large as life; and upon my profits maybe a little larger if the truth was known.”
“Cannie,” said the proctor, “dix me, but I'm glad to see you—and how are you, man?—and do you carry your bones safe—or your head upon your shoulders at all, durin' these wild times?”
“Troth, and you may well say they're wild times, Mr. Purcel, and it'll be wisdom in every one to keep themselves as safe as possible till they mend. Is it thruth, sir, that you're makin' preparations to collect your tides wid the help o' the sogers and polis?”
“Perfectly thrue, Cannie; we'll let the rascals that are misleading the people, as well as the people themselves, know whether they or the law are the strongest. They cannot blame us for the consequence, for we're forced to it.”
“There will be bad work, thin, I'm afeard, sir; and bloody work, I dread.”
“That's not our fault, Cannie, but the fault of those who will wilfully violate the law. However, let that pass, what's the news in the world?”
“I suppose you hard, sir, that the house of your friend and neighbor, that man that hears nothin'—” here there was the slightest perceptible grin upon the pedlar's face—“was attacked last night?”
“You don't mean O'Driscol's?”
“Upon my profits, I do—an' nobody else's.
“Hillo! do you hear this, girls? O'Driscol's house was attacked last night!”