“I know you’re not, my good girl; I know you’re not telling a lie;—but, nevertheless, I must see Mr Lynch. Just step up and wake him, and tell him I’m waiting to say two words to him.” “Faix, yer honer, he’s very bitther intirely, when he’s waked this early. But in course I’ll be led by yer honers. I’ll say then, that the lord, and Parson Armstrong, and the docther, and Mr Martin, is waiting to spake two words to him. Is that it?” “That’ll do as well as anything,” said Armstrong; and then, when the girl went upstairs, he continued, “You see she knew us all, and of course will tell him who we are; but I’ll not let him escape, for I’ll go up with her,” and, as the girl slowly opened her master’s bed-room door, Mr Armstrong stood close outside it in the passage. After considerable efforts, Biddy succeeded in awaking her master sufficiently to make him understand that Lord Ballindine, and Doctor Colligan were downstairs, and that Parson Armstrong was just outside the bed-room door. The poor girl tried hard to communicate her tidings in such a whisper as would be inaudible to the parson; but this was impossible, for Barry only swore at her, and asked her “what the d–––– she meant by jabbering there in that manner?” When, however, he did comprehend who his visitors were, and where they were, he gnashed his teeth and clenched his fist at the poor girl, in sign of his anger against her for having admitted so unwelcome a party; but he was too frightened to speak. Mr Armstrong soon put an end to this dumb show, by walking into the bed-room, when the girl escaped, and he shut the door. Barry sat up in his bed, rubbed his eyes, and stared at him, but he said nothing. “Mr Lynch,” said the parson, “I had better at once explain the circumstances which have induced me to make so very strange a visit.” “Confounded strange, I must say! to come up to a man’s room in this way, and him in bed!” “Doctor Colligan is downstairs—” “D–––– Doctor Colligan! He’s at his lies again, I suppose? Much I care for Doctor Colligan.” “Doctor Colligan is downstairs,” continued Mr Armstrong, “and Lord Ballindine, who, you are aware, is a magistrate. They wish to speak to you, Mr Lynch, and that at once.” “I suppose they can wait till a man’s dressed?” “That depends on how long you’re dressing, Mr Lynch.” “Upon my word, this is cool enough, in a man’s own house!” said Barry. “Well, you don’t expect me to get up while you’re there, I suppose?” “Indeed I do, Mr Lynch: never mind me; just wash and dress yourself as though I wasn’t here. I’ll wait here till we go down together.” “I’m d––––d if I do,” said Barry. “I’ll not stir while you remain there!” and he threw himself back in the bed, and wrapped the bedclothes round him.