“No, no,” said she, shaking her head, and speaking as much to herself as to Darby; “I know him too well; no earthly power will put him out of his own way, once he takes it into his head. This minute, if I had spoke another word about the blessin', Mr. M'Clutchy would a got another curse; yet, except in these fits, my poor child is kindness and tendheress itself.”
“Well now,” said Darby, “that that's over, can you tell me, Poll, what's the news? When were you in Dublin?”
“I've given that up,” replied Poll; “I'm too ould and stiff for it now. As for the news, you ought to know what's goin' as well as I do. You're nearly as much on the foot.”
“No; nor if every head in the parish was 'ithin side o'mine, I wouldn't know as much in the news line as you, Poll.”
“The news that's goin' of late, Darby, is not good, an' you know it. There's great grumlin' an' great complaints, ever since. Val, the lad, became undher agent; and you know that too.”
“But how can I prevent that?” said Darby; “sure I'd side wid the people if I could.”
“You'd side wid the people, an' you'd side wid the man that oppresses them, even in spite of Mr. Hickman.”
“God bless Mr. Hickman!” said Raymond, “and the divil curse him! and sure 'tis well known that the divil's curse is only another name for God's blessin'. God bless, Mr. Hickman!”
“Amen, my darlin' child, wid all my heart,” said Poll; “but, Darby,” she continued, “take my word for it, that these things won't end well. The estate and neighborhood was peaceable and quiet till the Vulture began his pranks, and now——”
“Very well,” said Darby, “the blame be his, an' if it comes to that, the punishment; so far as myself's consarned, I say, let every herrin' hang by its own tail—I must do my duty. But tell me, Poll—hut, woman, never mind the Vulture—let him go to the devil his own way—tell me do you ever hear from your son Frank, that Brian M'Loughlin sent acrass?”