However, take it easy, sir; devil a bit I'm afeared.

If you're not her son, Misther Woodward, why, I'm not Barney Casey, that's all.

Don't deny it, sir; you're welcome home, and I'm glad to see you, as they all will be." "Harkee, then," said Woodward, "you are right; but, mark me, keep quiet, and allow me to manage matters in my own way; not a syllable of the discovery you have made, or it will be worse for you.

I am not a person to be trifled with." "Troth, and you're right there, sir; it's what I often said, often say, and often will say of myself.

Barney Casey is not the boy to be trifled wid." On arriving at the house, Barney took round the horse--a hired one, by the way--to the stable, and Woodward knocked.