Here he took up the poker, and made a very angry lunge at the fire that did not want stirring, and there he beheld the letter blazing merrily away. He dropped the poker as if he had caught it by the hot end, as he exclaimed, "What the d----l shall I do? I've burnt the letter!" This threw the squire into a fit of what he was wont to call his "considering cap;" and he sat with his feet on the fender for some minutes, occasionally muttering to himself what he began with,--"What the d----l shall I do? It's all owing to that infernal Andy--I'll murder that fellow some time or other. If he hadn't brought it--I shouldn't have seen it, to be sure, if I hadn't looked; but then the temptation--a saint couldn't have withstood it. Confound it! what a stupid trick to burn it! Another here, too--must burn that as well, and say nothing about either of them:" and he took up the second letter, and, merely looking at the address, threw it into the fire. He then rang the bell, and desired Andy to be sent to him. As soon as that ingenious individual made his appearance, the squire desired him, with peculiar emphasis, to shut the door, and then opened upon him with-- "You unfortunate rascal!" "Yis, your honour." "Do you know that you might be hanged for what you did to-day?" "What did I do, sir?" "You robbed the post-office." "How did I rob it, sir?" "You took two letters that you had no right to." "It's no robbery for a man to get the worth of his money." "Will you hold your tongue, you stupid villain! I'm not joking: you absolutely might be hanged for robbing the post-office." "Sure I didn't know there was any harm in what I done; and for that matther sure, if they're sitch wonderful value, can't I go back again wid 'em?" "No, you thief! I hope you've not said a word to any one about it." "Not the sign of a word passed my lips about it." "You're sure?" "Sartin!" "Take care, then, that you never open your mouth to mortal about it, or you'll be hanged, as sure as your name is Andy Rooney." "Oh! at that rate I never will. But may be your honour thinks I ought to be hanged?" "No,--because you did not intend to do a wrong thing; but, only I have pity on you, I could hang you to-morrow for what you have done." "Thank you, sir." "I've burnt the letters, so no one can know anything about the business unless you tell on yourself: so remember,--not a word." "Faith, I'll be dumb as the dumb baste." "Go now; and once for all, remember you'll be hanged so sure as you ever mention one word about this affair."