"How do you manage the qualification?" said the _aide-de-camp_, slyly.
"The man who gives the borough must take care of that; it's no affair of mine," said Linton, carelessly. "I only supply the politics."
"_Cela dépend_. You might as well ask me what dress I 'll wear in the changeable climate of an Irish July."
"To be sure I will; every one asked of me. I only stipulate to accompany each with a crotchet of my own, so that, like the gentleman who emptied his snuff-box over the peas, I 'll leave the dish uneatable by any but myself."
"Well, good-bye, Tom," said Lord Charles, laughing. "If you only be as loyal in love as you promise to be in politics, our fair friend is scarcely fortunate." And so saying, he cantered slowly away.
"Poor fellow!" said Linton, contemptuously, "your little bit of principle haunts you like a superstition." And with this reflection, he stepped out briskly to where the boy was standing with his horse.
"Oh, Mr. Linton, darlin', only sixpence! and I here this two hours?" said the ragged urchin, with a cunning leer, half roguery, half shame.
"And where could you have earned sixpence, you scoundrel, in that time?" cried Linton, affecting anger.
"Faix, I 'd have earned half a crown if I 'd got up on the beast and rode down to Bilton's," said the fellow, grinning.
"You 'd have had your skull cracked with this cane, the next time I met you, for your pains," said the other, really enraged, while he chucked a shilling at him.
"Success to your honor,--all's right," said the boy. And touching his cap, he scampered off into the wood, and disappeared.
"You shall have a sea voyage, my friend," said Linton, looking after him; "a young gentleman with such powers of observation would have a fine opening in our colonies." And away he rode towards town, his brain revolving many a complex scheme and lucky stratagem, but still with ready smile acknowledging each salutation of his friends, and conveying the impression of being one whose easy nature was unruffled by a care.
CHAPTER XIX. THE DOMESTIC DETECTIVE CONSULTED.
Of "sweet fifteen" no mortal e'er afraid is, Your real "man traps" are old maiden ladies.
It was late of that same afternoon ere Cashel awoke. Mr. Phillis had twice adventured into the room on tiptoe, and as stealthily retired, and was now, for the third time, about to retreat, when Roland called him back.