"I'll make him laugh at the wrong side of his mouth," thought the squire, alighting and giving his horse to the care of one of the little ragged boys who were idling in the street. He approached Murphy with a very threatening aspect, and confronting him and his party so as to produce a halt, he said, as distinctly as his rage would permit him to speak, "You little insignificant blackguard, I'll teach you how you'll cut your jokes on _me_ again; _I'll_ blister you, my buck!" and laying hands on the astonished Murtough with the last word, he began a very smart horsewhipping of the attorney. The widow screamed, Tom Durfy swore, and Murtough roared, with some interjectional curses. At last he escaped from the squire's grip, leaving the lappel of his coat in his possession; and Tom Durfy interposed his person between them when he saw an intention on the part of the flagellator to repeat his dose of horsewhip. "Let me at him, sir, or by----" "Fie, fie, squire!--to horsewhip a gentleman like a cart-horse." "A gentleman!--an attorney you mean." "I say a gentleman, Squire Egan," cried Murtough fiercely, roused to gallantry by the presence of a lady, and smarting under a sense of injury and whalebone. "I'm a gentleman, sir, and demand thesatisfaction of a gentleman. I put my honour into your hands, Mr. Durfy." "Between his finger and thumb, you mean, for there's not a handful of it," said the squire. "Well, sir," replied Tom Durfy, "little or much, I'll take charge of it. That's right, my cock," said he to Murtough, who notwithstanding his desire to assume a warlike air, could not resist the natural impulse of rubbing his back and shoulders which tingled with pain, while he exclaimed, "Satisfaction! satisfaction!" "Very well," said the squire, "you name yourself as Mr. Murphy's friend?" added he to Durfy. "The same, sir," said Tom. "Whom do you name as yours?" "I suppose you know one Dick the Divil?" "A very proper person, sir;--no better: I'll go to him directly." The widow clung to Tom's arm, and looking tenderly at him, cried, "Oh, Tom, Tom, take care of your precious life!" "Bother!" said Tom. "Ah, Squire Egan, don't be so bloodthirsty!" "Fudge, woman!" said the squire. "Ah, Mr. Murphy, I'm sure the squire's very sorry for beating you." "Divil a bit," said the squire. "There, ma'am," said Murphy, "you see he'll make no apology." "Apology!" said Durfy, "apology for a horsewhipping, indeed! Nothing but handing a horsewhip (which I wouldn't ask any gentleman to do), or a shot, can settle the matter." "Oh, Tom! Tom! Tom!" said the widow. "Ba! ba! ba!" shouted Tom, making a crying face at her. "Arrah, woman, don't be making a fool of yourself. Go in to the 'pothecary's, and get something under your nose to revive you: and let _us_ mind our _own_ business."