But ye're a sober, discrate
man, Mister Hollister, and would be a helpmate indeed."
"Why, Mrs. Flanagan, I've tarried to speak on a subject that lies heavy
at my heart, and I will now open my mind, if you've leisure to listen."
"Is it listen?" cried the impatient woman; "and I'd listen to you,
sargeant, if the officers never ate another mouthful. But take a second
drop, dear; 'twill encourage you to spake freely."
"I am already bold enough in so good a cause," returned the veteran,
rejecting her bounty. "Betty, do you think it was really the peddler spy
that I placed in this room the last night?"
"And who should it be else, darling?"
"The evil one."
"What, the divil?"
"Aye, even Beelzebub, disguised as the peddler; and them fellows we
thought to be Skinners were his imps."
"Well sure, sargeant dear, ye're but little out this time, anyway; for
if the divil's imps go at large in the county Westchester, sure it is
the Skinners, themselves."
"Mrs. Flanagan, I mean in their incarnate spirits; the evil one knew
there was no one we would arrest sooner than the peddler Birch, and he
took on his appearance to gain admission to your room."
"And what should the divil be wanting of me?" cried Betty, tartly. "And
isn't there divils enough in the corps already, without one's coming
from the bottomless pit to frighten a lone body?"
"'Twas in mercy to you, Betty, that he was permitted to come.
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