'And haven't they taken my hens to pay for that dirk of yours ?' cried another.

'And all our best furniture to pay for your white shirts and black cravats ?' cried Murdock, my brother.

'And haven't we been starved to death ever since ?' cried they all.

'Och hone!' said my mother.

'The devil they have!' said I, when they'd all done.