“I tell you, sirra, you are a most impudent and knavish scoundrel, to speak to me in this style, and in my own office, too! Go and get the balance of the rent, otherwise you shall repent it; and, mark me, sirra, no more of your dishonesty.”
“As God is to judge me—”
“Ah, my friend—,” began Solomon.
“Be off to h—l, sir, out of this,” thundered Phil. “Be off, I say, to h—l or Connaught; or if you don't, take my word for it, you'll find yourself in a worse mess. To address my father in such language! Be off, sir; ha!”—Bow-wow! said his face once more.
“Ah,” said Solomon, when the man had retired, “I see your patience and your difficulties—but there is no man free from the latter in this checkered vale of sorrow.”
“Call Roger Regan,” said Val; “here's a fellow, now, who has an excellent farm at a low rent, yet he never is prepared with a penny. Well Regan.”
“Oh! devil resave the penny, sir;—you, must only prize (appraise) the craps; the ould game, sir—the ould game; however, it's a merry world as long as it lasts, and we must only take our own fun out of it.”
“What is the matter with your head, Regan?” asked Val.
“Devil a much, sir; a couple o' cuts that you might lay your finger in. We an' the Haimigans had another set to on Thursday last, but be my sowl, we thrashed them into chaff—as we're well able to do. Will I have the pleasure of drinking your health, gintlemen? I think I see the right sort here.”
“Give him a glass of spirits,” said Val; “I think, Regan, you have seen some one drinking to-day already.”