* These were iniquitous
exactions, racked from the poor
tenantry by the old landlords or their agents.
“Well,” proceeded M’Clutchy, without a single observation, “did you call on the Slevins?”
“Yes, sir; they’re ready.”
“Not ready, sir; but a pair of geese, and two men on next Thursday and Saturday. On Friday they must go to market to buy two slips.” (* young pigs).
“Not ready, sir; but that I may never die in sin, a ’cute shaver.”
“Why so—what did she say?”
“Oh, Mr. Hickman, sir, the head agent, your honor; that’s the go. Throth, the same Mr. Hickman is—but, God forbid, sir, I’d spake a word against the absent; but any way, he’s a good round thrifle, one way or the other, out of your pocket, from Jinny-warry to December.”
“Darby, my good man, and most impertinent scoundrel, if you wish to retain your present situation, never open your lips against that excellent gentleman, Mr. Hickman. Mark my words—out you go, if I ever discover that you mention him with disrespect.”
“Well, I won’t then; and God forgive me for spakin’ the truth—when it’s not right.”
“Did you see the Mulhollands?”
“Mr. Hickman again, sir, an’ bad luck to—— Beg pardon, sir, I forgot. Throth, sir, when I mentioned the duty work an’ the new aveny, they whistled at you.”
“Whistled at me!”
“Yes, sir; an’ said that Mr. Hickman tould them to give you neither duty fowl nor duty work, but to do their own business, and let you do yours. Ay, and ’twas the same from all the rest.”