"Holy Jesus! what is it that you want?" screamed the landlady. "The blood of the tithe proctor, and that's what we'll have," replied the O'Tooles. "Not in my house--not in my house!" cried she. "Take him away, at all events; promise me to take him away." "So we will, honey darlint; we'll take him out of your sight, and out of your hearing, too, only show us where he may be." "He's sleeping," replied the mother, pointing to the door of the bed-room, where I had been lying down. The party took the light from her hand, and went into the room, where they perceived the bed empty and the window open. "Devil a bit of a proctor here anyhow," cried one of them, "and the window open. He's off--hurrah! my lads, he can't be far." "By the powers! it's just my opinion, Mrs McShane," replied the elder O'Toole, "that he's not quite so far off; so with your lave, or by your lave, or without your lave, we'll just have a look over the premises." "O! and welcome, Mister Jerry O'Toole: if you think I'm the woman to hide a proctor, look everywhere just as you please." The party, headed by Jerry O'Toole, who had taken the light out of Mrs McShane's hand, now ascended the ladder to the upper storey, and as I lay by Kathleen, I felt that she trembled with fear. After examining every nook and cranny they could think of, they came to Mrs McShane's room--"O! go in--go in and look, Mr O'Toole; it's a very likely thing to insinuate that I should have a tithe proctor in my bed. Search, pray," and Mrs McShane led the way into her own room. Every part had been examined, except the small sleeping room of Kathleen; and the party paused before the door. "We must search," observed O'Toole, doggedly. "Search my daughter's! very well, search if you please; it's a fine story you'll have to tell, how six great men pulled a poor girl out of her bed to look for a tithe proctor. It will be a credit to you anyhow; and you, Corny O'Toole, you'll stand well in her good graces, when you come to talk about the wedding-day; and your wife that is to be, pulled out of her bed by a dozen men. What will ye say to Kathleen, when you affront her by supposing that a maiden girl has a tithe proctor in bed with her? D'ye think that ye'll ever have the mother's consent or blessing?" "No one goes into Kathleen's room," cried Corny O'Toole, roused by the sarcasms of Mrs McShane. "Yes, Corny," replied Mrs McShane, "it's not for a woman like me to be suspected, at all events; so you, and you only, shall go into the room, if that will content ye, Mr Jerry O'Toole." "Yes!" replied the party, and Mrs McShane opened the door. Kathleen rose up on her elbow, holding the bed-clothes up to her throat, and looking at them, as they entered, said, "O Corny! Corny! this to me?" Corny never thought of looking for anybody, his eyes were rivetted upon his sweetheart. "Murder, Kathleen, is it my fault? Jerry will have it." "Are you satisfied, Corny?" said Mrs McShane.