The man, with trembling hands, placed some notes, and gold, and silver before him—the latter being rolled up in the former.
“I'm short for the present,” he added, “just thirty shilling, sir; but you can give me an acknowledgment for the sum I give you now: a regular receipt will do when I bring you the balance, which, God willin', will be in about a fortnight.”
“Ay, and this is your rent, Mr. O'Hare,” exclaimed Phil, gathering up the money into a lump, and with all his force flinging it at the man's head; “this is your rent, Mister O'Hare,” placing an emphasis of contempt on the word Mr.; “thirty shillings short, Mr. O'Hare, but I'll tell you what, Mr. O'Hare, by —-, if you don't have the full rent for me in two hours, Mr. O'Hare, I'll make short work, and you may sleep on the dunghill. I can in ten minutes get more rent than you pay, Mr. O'Hare, so now go to h—l, and get the money, or out you go.”
The poor man stooped down, and with considerable search and difficulty, succeeded in picking up his money.
“In two hours, sir,” said he, “I could never do it.”
“That's your own business,” said Phil, “not mine—if you have it not for me in two hours, out you go; so now be off to hell out of this, and get it.”
Val, who had been poring over an account-book, now raised his head, as if disturbed by the noise for the first time—
“What's the matter?” said he, “what is it, Phil?”
“Why, d—n my honor,” replied Phil, “but that scoundrel O'Hare, had the assurance to come to me thirty shillings short of his rent, and, what is more, only brought me a part of it in gold!”
“God help me!” exclaimed poor O'Hare, “I know not what to do—sure I did the—best I could.”