_Clerk._ I shall, sir. [_Exit clerk._ _Catty._ We’ll see--we’ll see all soon--and the truth will come out, and shame the _dibbil_ and the McBrides! _Randal._ (_looking out_) The man I bet, as I’m a sinner! _Catty._ What?--Which?--Where?--True for ye!--I was wondering I did not see the man you bet appear again ye: and this is he, with the head bound up in the garter, coming--miserable cratur he looks--who would he be? _Randal._ You’ll see all soon, mother. _Enter PAT COXE, his head bound up._ _Mr. Carv._ Come on--walk on boldly, friend. _Catty._ Pat Coxe! saints above! _Mr. Carv._ Take courage, you are under my protection here--no one will dare to touch you. _Randal_ (_with infinite contempt_) Touch ye! Not I, ye dirty dog! _Mr. Carv._ No, sir, you have done enough that way already, it appears. _Honor._ Randal! what, has Randal done this? _Mr. Carv._ Now observe--this Mr. Patrick Coxe, aforesaid, has taken refuge with me; for he is, it seems, afraid to appear before his master, Mr. O’Blaney, this night, after having been beaten: though, as he assures me, he has been beaten without any provocation whatsoever, by you, Mr. Randal Rooney--answer, sir, to this matter. _Randal._ I don’t deny it, sir--I bet him, ‘tis true. _Pat._ To a jelly--without marcy--he did, plase your honour, sir. _Randal._ Sir, plase your honour, I got rason to suspect this man to be the author of all them lies that was tould backwards and forwards to my mother, about me and Miss Honor McBride, which made my mother mad, and driv’ her to raise the riot, plase your honour. I charged Pat with the lies, and he shirked, and could give me no satisfaction, but kept swearing he was no liar, and bid me keep my distance, for he’d a pocket pistol about him. “I don’t care what you have about you--you have not the truth about ye, nor in ye,” says I; “ye are a liar, Pat Coxe,” says I: so he cocked the pistol at me, saying, _that_ would prove me a coward--with that I wrenched the pistol from him, and _bet_ him in a big passion. I own to that, plase your honour--there I own I was wrong (_turning to HONOR_), to demane myself lifting my hand any way. _Mr. Carv._ But it is not yet proved that this man has told any lies. _Randal._ If he has tould no lies, I wronged him. Speak, mother--(_COXE gets behind CATTY, and twitches her gown_), was it he who was the informer, or not? _Catty._ Nay, Pat Coxe, if you lied, I’ll not screen you; but if you tould the truth, stand out like a man, and stand to it, and I’ll stand by you, against my own son even, Randal, if he was the author of the report. In plain words, then, he, Pat Coxe, tould me, that she, Honor McBride, gave you, Randal Rooney, the meeting behind the chapel, and you gave her the ring--and then she went with you to drink at Flaherty’s. _Honor._ (_starting up_) Oh! who _could_ say the like of me?