“Phaddhy, I deny it; it's a big lie--he could not make much use of such words, and he going to face death. I say you could not listen to them; the hair would stand on your head if he did; but God forgive him--that's the worst I wish him. Didn't the hair stand on your head, Phaddhy, to hear him?” “Why, then, to tell yer Reverence God's truth, I can't say it did.” “You can't say it did! and if I was in your coat, I would be ashamed to say it did not. I was always troubled about the way the fellow died, but I hadn't the slightest notion: that he went off such a reprobate. I fought his battle and yours hard enough yesterday; but I knew less about him than I do now.” “And what, wid submission, did you fight our battles about, yer Reverence?” inquired Phaddhy. “Yesterday evening, in Parrah More Slevin's, they had him a miser, and yourself they set down as very little better.” “Then I don't think I desarved that from Parrah More, anyhow, Father Philemy; I think I can show myself as dacent as Parrah More or any of his faction.” “It was not Parrah More himself, nor his family, that said anything about you, Phaddhy,” said the priest, “but others that were present. You must know that we were all to be starved here to-day.” “Oh! ho!” exclaimed Phaddhy, who was hit most palpably upon the weakest side--the very sorest spot about him, “they think bekase this is the first station that ever was held in my house, that you won't be thrated as you ought; but they'll be disappointed; and I hope, for so far, that yer Reverence and yer friends had no rason to complain.” “Not in the least, Phaddhy, considering that it was a first station; and if the dinner goes as well off as the breakfast, they'll be biting their nails: but I should not wish myself that they would have it in their power to sneer or throw any slur over you about it.--Go along, Dolan,” exclaimed his Reverence to a countryman who came in from the street, where those stood who were for confession, to see if he had gone to his room--“Go along, you vagrant, don't you see I'm not gone to the tribunal yet?--But it's no matter about that, Phaddhy, it's of other things you ought to think: when were you at your duty?” “This morning, sir,” replied the other--“but I'd have them to understand, that had the presumption to use my name in any such manner, that I know when and where to be dacent with any mother's son of Parrah More's faction; and that I'll be afther whispering to them some of these fine mornings, plase goodness.” “Well, well, Phaddhy, don't put yourself in a passion about it, particularly so soon after having been at confession--it's not right--I told them myself, that we'd have a leg of mutton and a bottle of wine at all events for it was what they had; but that's not worth talking about--when were you with the priest before Phaddhy?”