Beyond _that_, his scepticism stepped in and saved him from inconvenience; and though he might have been somewhat puzzled to reduce his faith to a rubric, still it answered his purpose, and that was all he wanted.

Such, in short, was my valet, Mickey Free, and who, had not heavy injunctions been laid on him as to silence and discretion, would well have lightened my weary hours.
"Ah, then, Misther Charles!" said he, with a half-suppressed yawn at the long period of probation his tongue had been undergoing in silence,--"ah, then, but ye were mighty near it!" "Near what ?" said I.
"Faith, then, myself doesn't well know.

Some say it's purgathory; but it's hard to tell." "I thought you were too good a Catholic, Mickey, to show any doubts on the matter ?" "May be I am; may be I ain't," was the cautious reply.
"Wouldn't Father Roach explain any of your difficulties for you, if you went over to him ?" "Faix, it's little I'd mind his explainings." "And why not ?" "Easy enough.

If you ax ould Miles there, without, what does he be doing with all the powther and shot, wouldn't he tell you he's shooting the rooks, and the magpies, and some other varmint?
But myself knows he sells it to Widow Casey, at two-and-fourpence a pound; so belikes, Father Roach may be shooting away at the poor souls in purgathory, that all this time are enjoying the hoith of fine living in heaven, ye understand." "And you think that's the way of it, Mickey ?" "Troth, it's likely.

Anyhow, I know its not the place they make it out." "Why, how do you mean ?" "Well, then, I'll tell you, Misther Charles; but you must not be saying anything about it afther, for I don't like to talk about these kind of things." Having pledged myself to the requisite silence and secrecy, Mickey began:-- "May be you heard tell of the way my father, rest his soul wherever he is, came to his end.