"
"And so I can. Do you suspect anybody?"
"Troth, sir, I can't say--for I live in a very honest neighborhood.
The only two thieves that were in it--Charley Folliott and George
Austin--were hanged not long ago, and I don't know anybody else in the
country side that would stale it."
"What family have you?"
"Three sons, sir."
"How many daughters?"
"One, sir--but she's only a _girsha_" (a little girl).
"I suppose your sons are very good children to you?"
"Betther never broke bread, sir--all but the youngest."
"What age is he?"
"About nineteen, sir, or goin' an twenty; but he's a, heart-scald to me
and the family--although he's his mother's pet; the divil can't stand
him for dress--and, moreover, he's given to liquor and card-playin', and
is altogether goin' to the bad. Widin the last two or three days he has
bought himself a new hat, a new pair o' brogues, and a pair o' span-new
breeches--and, upon my conscience, it wasn't from me or mine he got the
money to buy them."
The conjurer looked solemnly into his book for some minutes, and then
raising his head, fastened his cold, glassy, glittering eyes on the
farmer with a glance that filled him with awe.
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