al, which passed between them, in the
shape of dismissals from service on the one side, and notices to leave
on the other; each of which whether written or oral, was treated by the
party noticed with the most thorough contempt. Nothing was right that
Jemmy disapproved of, and nothing wrong that had his sanction, and this
without any reference whatsoever to the will of his master, who, if he
happened to get into a passion about it, was put down by Jemmy, who
got into a greater passion still; so that, after a long course of
recrimination and Billinsgate on both sides, delivered by Jemmy in an
incomparably louder voice, and with a more consequential manner, old
Dick was finally forced to succumb.

The worthy magistrate and his son were at breakfast next morning, when
young "Master Richard," as he was called, rung the bell, and Jemmy
attended--for we must add, that Jemmy discharged the duties of butler,
together with any other duty that he himself deemed necessary, and that
without leave asked or given.

"Where's Hanlon, Jemmy?" he asked.

"Hanlon? troth, it's little matther where he is, an' devil a one o'
myself cares."

"Well, but I care, Jemmy, for I want him. Where is he?"

"He's gone up to that ould streele's, that lives in the cabin above
there. I don't like the same Hanlon; nobody here knows anything about
him, nor he won't let them know anything about him. He's as close as
Darby Skinadre, and as deep as a dhraw-well. Altogether, he looks as if
there was a weight on his conscience, for all his lightness an' fun--an'
if I thought so, I'd discharge him at wanst."

"And I agree with you for once," observed his master; "there is some
cursed mystery about him. I don't like him, either, to say the truth."

"An' why don't you like him?" asked Jemmy, with a contemptuous look.

"I can't say; but I don't."

"No! you can't? I know you can't say anything, at all events, that you
ought to say," replied Jemmy, who, like, his master, would have died
without contradiction; "but I can say why you don't like him; it's
bekaise he's the best sarvint ever was about your place; that's the
raison you don't like him. But what do you know about a good sarvint or
a bad one, or anything else that's useful to you, God help you."

"If you were near my cane, you old scoundrel, I'd pay you for your
impertinence, ay would I."

"Ould scoundrel, is it? Oh, hould your tongue; I'm not of your blood,
thank God!--and don't be fastenin' your