Sir Robert Whitecraft did not get into a rage; he neither cursed nor swore, nor even looked angrily, but he gave a peculiar smile, which should be seen in order to be understood. “Where is your--ahem--your friend now?” he asked; and as he did so he began to whistle. “Have you another job for him?” she inquired, in her turn, with a peculiar meaning. “Whenever I fail by fair play, he tries it by foul.” “Well, and have not I often saved his neck, as well by my influence as by allowing him to take shelter under my roof whenever he was hard pressed?” “I know that, your honor; and hasn't he and I often sarved you, on the other hand?” “I grant it, Molly; but that is a matter known only to ourselves. You know I have the reputation of being very correct and virtuous.” “I know you have,” said Molly, “with most people, but not with all.” “Well, Molly, you know, as far as we are concerned, one good turn deserves another. Where is your friend now, I ask again?” “Why, then, to tell you the truth, it's more than I know at the present speaking.” “Follow me, then,” replied the wily baronet; “I wish you to see him; he is now concealed in my house; but first, mark me, I don't believe a word of what you have just repeated.” “It's as true as Gospel for all that,” she replied; “and if you wish to hear how I found it out I'll tell you.” “Well,” said the baronet calmly, “let us hear it.” “You must know,” she proceeded, “that I have a cousin, one Betty Beatty, who is a housemaid in the squire's. Now, this same Betty Beatty was in the front parlor--for the squire always dines in the back--and, from a kind of natural curiosity she's afflicted with, she puts her ear to the keyhole, and afterwards her eye. I happened to be at the squire's at the time, and, as blood is thicker that wather, and as she knew I was a friend of yourrs, she tould me what she had both heard and seen, what they said, and how he kissed her.” Sir Robert seemed very calm, and merely said, “Follow me into the house,” which she accordingly did, and remained in consultation with him and the Red Rapparee for nearly an hour, after which Sir Robert ordered his carriage, and went to pay a visit, as we have seen, at Corbo Castle. Sir Robert Whitecraft, on entering the parlor, shook hands as a matter of course with the squire. At this particular crisis the vehement but whimsical old man, whose mind was now full of another project with reference to his daughter, experienced no great gratification from this visit, and, as the baronet shook hands with him, he exclaimed somewhat testily. “Hang it, Sir Robert, why don't you shake hands like a man? You put that long yellow paw of yours, all skin and bones, into a man's hand, and there you let it lie. But, no matter, every one to his nature. Be seated, and tell me what news. Are the Papists quiet?”