“No man has belied you, Mr. Cox, but your nose belies you much, if you do not love drinking a little, and your black eye and cut chin belie you much if you do not love quarrelling a little.” “Quarrel! I quarrel, please your honour! I defy any man, or set of men, ten mile round, to prove such a thing, and I am ready to fight him that dares to say the like of me. I’d fight him here in your honour’s presence, if he’d only come out this minute, and meet me like a man.” Here Mr. Cox put himself into a boxing attitude, but observing that Mr. Somerville looked at his threatening gesture with a smile, and that several people, who had gathered round him as he stood in the street, laughed at the proof he gave of his peaceable disposition, he changed his attitude, and went on to vindicate himself against the charge of drinking. “And as to drink, please your honour, there’s no truth in it. Not a drop of whisky, good or bad, have I touched these six months, except what I took with Jemmy M’Doole the night I had the misfortune to meet your honour coming home from the fair of Ballynagrish.” To this speech Mr. Somerville made no answer, but turned away to look at the bow window of a handsome new inn, which the glazier was at this instant glazing. “Please your honour, that new inn is not let, I hear, as yet,” resumed Mr. Cox; “if your honour recollects, you promised to make me a compliment of it last Seraphtide was twelvemonth.” “Impossible!” cried Mr. Somerville, “for I had no thoughts of building an inn at that time.” “Oh, I beg your honour’s pardon but if you’d be just pleased to recollect, it was coming through the gap in the bog meadows, _forenent_ Thady O’Connor, you made me the promise—I’ll leave it to him, so I will.” “But I will not leave it to him, I assure you,” cried Mr. Somerville; “I never made any such promise. I never thought of letting this inn to you.” “Then your honour won’t let me have it?” “No, you have told me a dozen falsehoods. I do not wish to have you for a tenant.” “Well, God bless your honour; I’ve no more to say, but God bless your honour,” said Mr. Cox; and he walked away, muttering to himself, as he slouched his hat over his face, “I hope I’ll live to be revenged on him!” Mr. Somerville the next morning went with his family to look at the new inn, which he expected to see perfectly finished; but he was met by the carpenter, who, with a rueful face, informed him that six panes of glass in the large bow-window had been broken during the night.