A light now appeared within, and the man’s threat was cut short by hearing the creaking of boards, as if some person carefully crossed the floor. Then Timmins put his face to the entrance, and a whispered consultation between himself and his wife took place, the purport of which the traveler could not comprehend. ————●———— CHAPTER IV. STIRRING UP A WASP’S NEST. They were not long in suspense, as Mrs. Timmins, after closing the interview with her husband, gathered resolution to grasp the seemingly inanimate body by the arm, and to drag it away from the entrance. McKenna and his friend then went into the place—used as kitchen, washing, and dining-room, in accordance with the prevailing custom of the locality. Anthony Timmins at once seized upon the pewter candlestick, held the flame of the taper close to the face of the supposed dead man, almost scorching the eyebrows in his eagerness to discover who it might be; then, breaking out into loud laughter, he returned the light to Mrs. Timmins, raised his two hands above his head, slightly bending his knees as if about to sit down on the floor, his hat falling off sidewise meantime, and fairly shouted, between the rapidly following explosions of uncontrollable mirth which had quickly taken the place of his former anger: “By the hill o’ Howth! An’ its only poor ould man Fox, of the wee patch beyant the mountains, as harmless as a suckin’ dove, but, to his own sorrow, a great drunkard! He’s now what wan might call down, dead insensible wid the poteen he has taken.” And Timmins could scarcely postpone more laughter long enough to introduce his companion to Mrs. Timmins, after which brief ceremony he said: “No wonder on earth that we couldn’t open the door, wid all this lump of fat an’ iniquity braced forninst it! He weighs two hundred poun’ ’f wan ounce; an’ besides, the heel of his shoe wor caught in the crack under the door—which by the same token is wider nor will be comfortable next month—holdin’ it like a wedge, nate and tight against us!” “Oh, what a dawshy clodhopper I must have been,” said Mrs. Timmins, in an excellent brogue, “to be scared at ould man Fox! He’s his own worst inimy, is Paddy Fox, an’ he came here unbeknownst to me—as to who he wor, at laste—just as it grow’d dark, an’ before I had lighted the candle, an’ he stumbled into the kitchen, an’ I didn’t know him from the deil’s own grandfather; an’ I jist ran into the bedroom, the childer wid me, an’ fastened the door, expectin’ every minute he’d rouse up an’ begin to rob the house! I supposed he wor a tramp, for all the wurruld, an’ I didn’t dare make a noise, or strike a light, for fear we’d be murthered outright! An’ how glad I wor when I heard your steps on the gravel outside!”