ou've no further commands, for I didn't
yet well finish the bit I was ating."

"And you mean to say, Mrs Kelly, you'll take upon yourself to prevent
my seeing my sister?"

"Indeed I do; unless she was wishing it, as well as yourself; and no
mistake."

"And you'll do that, knowing, as you do, that the unfortunate young
woman is of weak mind, and unable to judge for herself, and that I'm
her brother, and her only living relative and guardian?"

"All blathershin, Masther Barry," said the uncourteous widow, dropping
the knife from her hand, and smacking her fingers: "as for wake mind,
it's sthrong enough to take good care of herself and her money too,
now she's once out of Dunmore House. There many waker than Anty Lynch,
though few have had worse tratement to make them so. As for guardian,
I'm thinking it's long since she was of age, and, av' her father
didn't think she wanted one, when he made his will, you needn't bother
yourself about it, now she's no one to plaze only herself. And as for
brother, Masther Barry, why didn't you think of that before you struck
her, like a brute, as you are--before you got dhrunk, like a baste, and
then threatened to murdher her? Why didn't you think about brother and
sisther before you thried to rob the poor _wake_ crature, as you call
her; and when you found she wasn't quite wake enough, as you call it,
swore to have her life, av' she wouldn't act at your bidding? That's
being a brother and a guardian, is it, Masther Barry? Talk to me of
danger, you ruffian," continued the widow, with her back now thoroughly
up; "you'd betther look to yourself, or I know who'll be in most
danger. Av' it wasn't the throuble it'd be to Anty,--and, God knows,
she's had throubles enough, I'd have had her before the magisthrates
before this, to tell of what was done last night up at the house,
yonder. But mind, she can do it yet, and, av' you don't take yourself
very asy, she shall. Danger, indeed! a robber and ruffian like you, to
talk of danger to me--and his _dear_ sisther, too, and aftimer trying
his best, last night, to murdher her!"

These last words, with a long drawl on the word _dear_, were addressed
rather to the crowd, whom the widow's loud voice had attracted into the
open shop, than to Barry, who stood, during this tirade, half stupefied
with rage, and half frightened, at the open attack made on him with
reference to his ill-treatment of Anty. However, he couldn't pull in
his horns now, and