"Not a taste," chimed in Jack.

"Nothing like it," echoed Will.

"What will we do?" said all at once. There was a short pause--after
which the matter was resumed by Dick, who was intended for a parson,
and therefore rather given to moralising.

"Life," quoth Dick--"life's uncertain."

"You may say that," rejoined Bob; "look at them rats."

"Tony Dowlan's a hard-drinking man, and his mother had fits."

"Of the same sort," said Bob.

"Well, then," continued Dick, "there's no knowing--he may be dead--if
so, how could he cut our hair?"

Here Dick, like Brutus, paused for a reply. Bob produced one.

"It's a good scheme, but it won't do; the likes of him never does
anything he's wanted to. He's the contrariest ould thief in Ireland! I
wish mama hadn't got a party; we'd do well enough but for that. Never
mind, boys, I've got it. There's Mikey Brian, he's the boy!

"What for?"

"To cut the hair of the whole of us."