"Sind out the rint, Joe, my darling," again bawled the widow, proving
that very little said in the inner room was lost upon her.

"Oh, sink you and your rint, you owld hag!" but he paid for the glass
for his friend; "and may I be d----d if they aint the very last
coppers I've got."

"Long life to you, Joe," said the other, as he swallowed the raw
whiskey; "may be I'll be able to stand to you, the same way, some of
these days, bad as things is yet. You is all to be up at Ballycloran
afther to-morrow, with the rints, eh Brady? What'll you be saying to
the young Masther, Joe?"

Joe was now somewhat elated by the second glass of whiskey.

"What 'll I be saying to him, is it? well I'll tell you what I'll
be saying. I'll just say this--'I owes two years' rint, Misther
Macdermot, for the thrifle of bog, and the cabin I holds up at
Drumleesh, and there's what I got to pay it!' And I'll show him what
he may put in his eye and see none the worse: and I'll go on, and
I'll say, 'Now, Misther Macdermot, there is the bit of oats up there,
as I and poor Tim broke the back of us dhrying the land for last
winter; and there is the bit of pratees; and I didn't yet be cutting
of the one, nor digging of the other; and if ye likes, ye may go and
do both; and take them with yer for me; and ye may take the roof off
the bit of a cabin I built myself over the ould mother; and ye may
turn out the ould hag to die in the cowld and the bog; and ye may
send me off, to get myself into the first gaol as is open to me.
That's what you can do, Misther Macdermot: and when you've done all
that, there'll be one, as would have stood betwixt you and all harum,
will then go far enough to give you back your own in the hardships
you've druv him to.' And then I'll go on, and I'll say, 'And you can
do this--you can tell me to go and be d----d, as ye did many a day,
and give me what bad language ye like; and you can send Pat to me
next day or so, jist to tell me to sell the oats, and bring in what
thrifle I can; and then, Mr. Thady, there'll be one who'll not let a
foot or finger of that hell-hound Keegan go on Ballycloran; there'll
be one'--and when there's me, my boys, there'll be lots more--'as 'll
keep you safe and snug in yer own father's house, though all the
Keegans and Flannellys in County Leitrim come to turn you out!' And
that's what I'll say to the Masther; and now, Pat--for he tells you
pretty much all--what'll the Masther be saying to that?"

"