"No, I've gi'n that up," returned the Irishman with a look of contempt.
"To tell you the honest truth, I don't believe that the way to right
Ireland is to blow up England. But there's an Englishman you'll find at
the Swan an' Anchor--a sneakin' blackguard, as would sell his own mother
for dhrink--he'll help you if you wants to have a hand in the job. I'm
off it."

Notwithstanding this want of sympathy on that point, the two friends
found that they held enough in common to induce a prolonged stay at the
public-house, from which Ned finally issued rather late at night, and
staggered homewards. He met no acquaintance on the way, and was about
to knock at his own door when the sound of a voice within arrested him.

It was Hetty, praying. The poor wife and daughter had given up hope of
his returning at so late an hour that night, and had betaken themselves
to their usual refuge in distress. Ned knew the sound well, and it
seemed to rouse a demon in his breast, for he raised his foot with the
intention of driving in the door, when he was again arrested by another
sound.

It was the voice of little Matty, who, awaking suddenly out of a
terrifying dream, set up a shrieking which at once drowned all other
sounds.

Ned lowered his foot, thrust his hands into his pockets, and stood
gazing in a state of indecision at the broken pavement for a few
minutes.

"No peace there," he said, sternly. "Prayin' an' squallin' don't suit
me, so good-night to 'ee all."

With that he turned sharp round, and staggered away, resolving never
more to return!

"Is that you, Ned Frog?" inquired a squalid, dirty-looking woman,
thrusting her head out of a window as he passed.

"No, 'tain't," said Ned, fiercely, as he left the court.

He went straight to a low lodging-house, but before entering tied his
money in a bit of rag, and thrust it into an inner pocket of his vest,
which he buttoned tight, and fastened his coat over it. Paying the
requisite fourpence for the night's lodging, he entered, and was
immediately hailed by several men who knew him, but being in no humour
for good fellowship, he merely nodded and went straight up to his lowly
bed. It was one of seventy beds that occupied the entire floor of an
immense room. Police supervision had secured that this room should be
well ventilated, and that the bedding should be reasonably clean, though
far from clean-looking, and Ned slept soundly in spite of drink, for, as
we have s