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?"

"No," said she, "not a word; but the curse o' heaven on Brian
M'Loughlin! Was my fine young man worth no more than his garran of
a horse, that he didn't steal either, till he was put to it by the
Finigans."

"Well, sure two o' them were sent over soon afther him, if that's any
comfort."

"It's no comfort," replied Poll, "but I'll tell you what's a comfort,
the thought that I'll never die till I have full revenge on Brian
M'Loughlin--ay, either on him or his--or both. Come, Raymond, have you
ne'er a spare curse now for Brian M'Loughlin?--you could give a fat one
to M'Clutchy this minute and have you none for Brian M'Loughlin?"

"No," replied, the son, "he doesn't be harryin' the poor."

"Well, but he transported your brother.

"No matter; Frank used to beat me--he was bad, an Brian M'Loughlin was
good to me, and does be good to me; he gives me my dinner or breakfast
whenever I go there--an' a good bed in the barn. I won't curse him.
Now!"

"It's no use," continued Poll, whose thin features had not yet subsided
from the inflammatory wildness of expression which had been awakened by
the curse, "it's no use, he'll only do what he likes himself, an' the
best way is to never heed him."

"I believe so," said Darby, "but where's your daughter Lucy now, Poll?"

"Why," said Poll, "she has taken to my trade, an' thravels up