It was impossible to meet the motion bodily. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. If Jack Sheppard or his mother ever enter this house again, I leave it—that's all.
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