"Aha! Mista John," said he, "you tall man too, but not tall as
Tom Steeple--ha, ha--you good man too, Mista John--give Tom bully
dinners--Willy Reilly, Mista John, want to see Willy Reilly."

"What do you want with him, Tom? he's engaged with the master."

"Must see him, Mista John; stitch in time saves nine. Hicko! hicko!
God's sake, Mista John: God's sake! Up dere;" and as he spoke he pointed
towards the sky.

"Well, but what is your business, then? What have you to say to him?
He's engaged, I tell you."

Tom, apprehensive that he might not get an opportunity of communicating
with Reilly, bolted in, and as the parlor door stood open, he saw him
standing near the large chimney-piece.

"Willy Reilly!" he exclaimed in a voice that trembled with earnestness,
"Willy Reilly, dere's news for you--for de squire too--bad news--God's
sake come wid Tom--you tall too, Willy Reilly, but not tall as Tom is."

"What is the matter, Tom?" asked Reilly; "you look alarmed."

"God's sake, here, Willy Reilly," replied the kind-hearted fool, "come
wid Tom. Bad news."

"Hallo!" exclaimed the squire, "what is the matter? Is this Tom Steeple?
Go to the kitchen, Tom, and get one of your 'bully dinners'--my poor
fellow--off with you--and a pot of beer, Tom."