Tom, like many other individuals of his description, was never able
to get over the language of childhood--a characteristic which is often
appended to the want of reason, and from which, we presume, the term
"innocent" has been applied in an especial manner to those who are
remarkable for the same defect.

Having uttered the words we have just recited, he started off at a gait,
peculiar to fools, which is known by the name of "a sling trot," and
after getting out upon the old road he turned himself in the direction
which Willy Reilly and his party had taken, and there we beg to leave
him for the present.

The old squire felt his animal heat much revived by the warmth of the
frieze coat, and his spirits, now that the dreadful scene into which he
had been so unexpectedly cast had passed away without danger, began to
rise so exuberantly that his conversation became quite loquacious and
mirthful, if not actually, to a certain extent, incoherent.

"Sir," said he, "you must come home with me--confound me, but you
must, and you needn't say nay, now, for I shall neither take excuse nor
apology. I am a hospitable man, Mr.--what's this your name is?"

"My name, sir," replied the other, "is Reilly--William Reilly, or, as
I am more generally called, Willy Reilly. The name, sir, though an
honorable one, is, in this instance, that of an humble man, but one who,
I trust, will never disgrace it."

"You must come home with me, Mr. Reilly. Not a word now."