"My father was taking Tishy and me about, showing us the house,"
replied Barty, apologetically. (As a matter of fact, he said "me
fawther," but if this, and similar details of pronunciation, are not
known by nature, it is labour in vain to attempt to indicate them by
means of the wholly inadequate English alphabet.) "Larry," he went on,
with the candour that made a gentleman of him, "I never was in a house
like this before. I declare to you it frightens me! I feel like a rat
gone astray! I was in the dining-room by myself, looking at the
pictures, and that old fella' of a butler came in and frightened the
heels off me! He kept an eye on me that was like a flame from a
blow-pipe! You'd say he thought I was going to steal the house!"

"I expect he did, too," said Larry, "especially if he thought that you
were a pal of mine. He hates me like blazes. He's one of those damned
Orangemen. I say, do you remember that thing in The Spirit of the
Nation, 'Orange and Green will carry the Day'? I bet old Evans would
rather lose, any day, than be 'linked in his might' with a Papist like
you or me! It's a most extraordinary thing how religion plays the
devil with Ireland!"

There are certain standard truisms that must be rediscovered by each
successive generation (possibly because they have bored the preceding
one to extinction), and Larry was of the age at which truisms reveal
themselves as new ideas, and sing and shine with the radiancy of
morning stars. He was also young enough, and just sufficiently
interested in religion, to find it exciting to denounce it. The
fervour of his indictment lifted him from his chair, and he stood,
with the evening light on his hot face, enjoying his theme, and his
audience.