The Molletts, father and son, were rather more than ordinary good customers at the Kanturk Hotel, and it was politic therefore to treat them well.

Mr.Mollett junior, moreover, was almost more than a customer; and for the sake of the son Fanny was anxious that the father should be well treated.
"Well, governor, and what have you done ?" said the younger man in a low voice, jumping up from his seat as soon as the girl had left them alone.
"Well, I've got the usual remittance from the man in Bucklersbury.
That was all as right as a trivet." "And no more than that?
Then I tell you what it is; we must be down on him at once." "But you forget that I got as much more last month, out of the usual course.

Come, Aby, don't you be unreasonable." "Bother--I tell you, governor, if he don't--" And then Miss O'Dwyer returned to her sanctum, and the rest of the conversation was necessarily postponed.
"He's managed to get you a lovely steak, Mr.Mollett," said Fanny, pronouncing the word as though it were written "steek." "And we've beautiful pickled walnuts; haven't we, Mr.Aby?
and there'll be kidneys biled" (meaning potatoes) "by the time the 'steek's' ready.
You like it with the gravy in, don't you, Mr.Mollett ?" And as she spoke she drew a quartern of whisky for two of Beamish and Crawford's draymen, who stood outside in the passage and drank it at the bar.
The lovely "steek" with the gravy in it--that is to say, nearly raw--was now ready, and father and son adjourned to the next room.
"Well, Tom, my lad of wax; and how's the world using you ?" said Mr.
Mollett senior.
"There ain't much difference then," said Tom; "I ain't no younger, nor yet no richer than when yer honour left us--and what is't to be, sir ?--a pint of stout, sir ?" As soon as Mr.Mollett senior had finished his dinner, and Tom had brought the father and son materials for making whisky-punch, they both got their knees together over the fire, and commenced the confidential conversation which Miss O'Dwyer had interrupted on her return to the bar-room.

They spoke now almost in a whisper, with their heads together over the fender, knowing from experience that what Tom wanted in eyes he made up in ears.
"And what did Prendergast say when he paid you the rhino ?" asked the son.
"Not a word," said the other.

"After all, I don't think he knows any more than a ghost what he pays it for: I think he gets fresh instructions every time.