How would you like to make yer appearance at court some fine morning, on the charge of murther, eh ?" Mr.Stevens gave a perceptible shudder, and looked round, whereupon McCloskey said, with a malevolent grin, "Ye see I don't stick at words, squire; I call things by their names." "So I perceive," answered Stevens.

"You were not so bold once." "Ha, ha!" laughed McCloskey.

"I know _that_ as well as you--then _I_ was under the thumb--that was before we were sailing in the one boat; now ye see, squire, the boot is on the other leg." Mr.Stevens remained quiet for a few moments, whilst his ragged visitor continued to leisurely sip his brandy and contemplate the soles of his boots as they were reflected in the mirror above--they were a sorry pair of boots, and looked as if there would soon be a general outbreak of his toes--so thin and dilapidated did the soles appear.
"Look at thim boots, and me suit ginerally, and see if your conscience won't accuse ye of ingratitude to the man who made yer fortune--or rather lets ye keep it, now ye have it.

Isn't it a shame now for me, the best friend you've got in the world, to be tramping the streets widdout a penny in his pocket, and ye livin' in clover, with gold pieces as plenty as blackberries.

It don't look right, squire, and mustn't go on any longer." "What do you want--whatever will satisfy you ?" asked Stevens.