"Why, not exactly frindship, my lord; but I've my rasons why I'd wish
you not to belittle the Lynches. Your lordship might forgive them all,
now the old man's dead."

"Forgive them!--indeed I can, and easily. I don't know I ever did any
of them an injury, except when I thrashed Barry at Eton, for calling
himself the son of a gentleman. But what makes you stick up for them?
You're not going to marry the daughter, are you?"

Martin blushed up to his forehead as his landlord thus hit the nail on
the head; but, as it was dark, his blushes couldn't be seen. So, after
dangling his hat about for a minute, and standing first on one foot,
and then on the other, he took courage, and answered.

"Well, Mr. Frank, that is, your lordship, I mane--I b'lieve I might do
worse."

"Body and soul, man!" exclaimed the other, jumping from his recumbent
position on the sofa, "You don't mean to tell me you're going to marry
Anty Lynch?"

"In course not," answered Martin; "av' your lordship objects."

"Object, man!--How the devil can I object? Why, she's six hundred a
year, hasn't she?"

"About four, my lord, I think's nearest the mark."

"Four hundred a year! And I don't suppose you owe a penny in the