“God, yes,” said Mr. Henchy. “Did you never hear that? And the men used to go in on Sunday morning before the houses were open to buy a waistcoat or a trousers⁠—moya! But Tricky Dicky’s little old father always had a tricky little black bottle up in a corner. Do you mind now? That’s that. That’s where he first saw the light.”

The old man returned with a few lumps of coal which he placed here and there on the fire.

“Thats a nice how-do-you-do,” said Mr. O’Connor. “How does he expect us to work for him if he won’t stump up?”

“I can’t help it,” said Mr. Henchy. “I expect to find the bailiffs in the hall when I go home.”