"The poor lonely Whig! He has nothing to do these days but sit around the tavern." "Ye might as well pity a goose for going bare-footed," the schoolmaster remarked.
In the midst of our laughter Colonel Hand rapped at the door and Mr.
Hacket admitted him.
"I tell you the country is going to the dogs," I heard the Colonel saying as he came into the house.
"You inhuman Hand!" said the schoolmaster.

"I should think you would be tired of trying to crush that old indestructible worm." Colonel Hand was a surly looking man beyond middle age with large eyes that showed signs of dissipation.

He had a small dark tuft beneath his lower lip and thin, black, untidy hair.
"What do ye think has happened ?" he asked as he looked down upon us with a majestic movement of his hand.
He stood with a stern face, like an orator, and seemed to enjoy our suspense.
"What do you think has happened ?" he repeated.
"God knows! It may be that Bill Harriman has swapped horses again or that somebody has been talked to death by old Granny Barnes--which is it ?" asked the schoolmaster.
"It is neither, sir," Colonel Hand answered sternly.

"The son o' that old Buck-tail, Ben Grimshaw, has been arrested and brought to jail for murder." "For murder ?" asked Mr.and Mrs.Hacket in one breath.
"For bloody murder, sir," the Colonel went on.

"It was the shooting of that man in the town o' Ballybeen a few weeks ago.