“Now go home,” he added, “and when next you want to get a wife for your spanking son, that's likely to become a squireen upon our hands, don't come to Brian M'Loughlin, who knows you from the paring of the nails to the core of the heart.”
M'Glutchy looked at him and laughed again; “before you go, at all events,” he replied, “I hope you remember the observation I made when I introduced the discourse.”
“I can't say I do,” said M'Loughlin, “but I suppose you will let us hear it.”
“I will,” replied Val, and his brow darkened as before. “It was this—your farm and mine lie very snugly together—observe, I said, 'that's what I begin with'—didn't I say that?”
“You did, and now what else do you say?”
“The very same thing—that your farm, and mine lie snugly together—and mark me, Mr. M'Loughlin—”
“I do—oh, upon my credit I do—ha, ha, ha!”
“Than that's what I end with.”
“Ah,” replied M'Loughlin indignantly, “you think you have the ball at your own foot, now that old Topertoe is gone, and his son has made you his under agent. A nice job indeed it was, that transformed old drunken Tom Topertoe into Lord Cumber, and made his son, the present Lord, too proud to live on his own estate. However, I'd be glad to see the honest man that ever envied the same old Tom his title, when we all know that he got it for selling his country. As for you, Vulture, I defy and despise you; when my rent's due, thank God I am able to pay it, so you may do your worst. While Mr. Hickman's over you, the tenants have some protection, in spite of your villainy, you unprincipled scoundrel.”
“Our farms lie snugly together, Mr: M'Loughlin, and that's what I end with.”