paid for, with the smith and farrier’s bills to be set against the rent of the demesne, with calf and hay money; then there was all the servants’ wages, since I don’t know when, coming due to them, and sums advanced for them by my son Jason for clothes, and boots, and whips, and odd moneys for sundries expended by them in journeys to town and elsewhere, and pocket-money for the master continually, and messengers and postage before his being a parliament man; I can’t myself tell you what besides; but this I know, that when the evening came on the which Sir Condy had appointed to settle all with my son Jason, and when he comes into the parlour, and sees the sight of bills and load of papers all gathered on the great dining-table for him, he puts his hands before both his eyes, and cried out, “Merciful Jasus! what is it I see before me?” Then I sets an armchair at the table for him, and with a deal of difficulty he sits him down, and my son Jason hands him over the pen and ink to sign to this man’s bill and t’other man’s bill, all which he did without making the least objections. Indeed, to give him his due, I never seen a man more fair and honest, and easy in all his dealings, from first to last, as Sir Condy, or more willing to pay every man his own as far as he was able, which is as much as anyone can do. “Well,” says he, joking like with Jason, “I wish we could settle it all with a stroke of my grey goose quill. What signifies making me wade through all this ocean of papers here; can’t you now, who understand drawing out an account, debtor and creditor, just sit down here at the corner of the table and get it done out for me, that I may have a clear view of the balance, which is all I need be talking about, you know?” “Very true, Sir Condy; nobody understands business better than yourself,” says Jason. “So I’ve a right to do, being born and bred to the bar,” says Sir Condy. “Thady, do step out and see are they bringing in the things for the punch, for we’ve just done all we have to do for this evening.” I goes out accordingly, and when I came back Jason was pointing to the balance, which was a terrible sight to my poor master. “Pooh! pooh! pooh!” says he, “here’s so many noughts they dazzle my eyes, so they do, and put me in mind of all I suffered, larning of my numeration table, when I was a boy at the day-school along with you, Jason—units, tens, hundreds, tens of hundred. Is the punch ready, Thady?” says he, seeing me. “Immediately; the boy has the jug in his hand; it’s coming upstairs, please your honour, as fast as possible,” says I, for I saw his honour was tired out of his life; but Jason, very short and cruel, cuts me off with—“Don’t be talking of punch yet awhile; it’s no time for punch yet a bit—units, tens, hundreds,” goes he on, counting over the master’s shoulder, units, tens, hundreds, thousands. “A-a-ah! hold your hand,” cries my master; “where in this wide world am I to find hundreds, or units itself, let alone thousands?” “The balance has been running on too long,” says Jason, sticking to him as I could not have done at the time, if you’d have given both the Indies and Cork to boot; “the balance has been running on too long, and I’m distressed myself on your account, Sir Condy, for money, and the thing must be settled now on the spot, and the balance cleared off,” says Jason. “I’ll thank you if you’ll only show me how,” says Sir Condy. “There’s but one way,” says Jason, “and that’s ready enough. When there’s no cash, what can a gentleman do but go to the land?” “How can you go to the land, and it under custodiam to yourself already?” says Sir Condy; “and another custodiam hanging over it? And no one at all can touch it, you know, but the custodees.” “Sure, can’t you sell, though at a loss? sure you can sell, and I’ve a purchaser ready for you,” says Jason. “Have you so?” says Sir Condy. “That’s a great point gained. But there’s a thing now beyond all, that perhaps you don’t know yet, barring Thady has let you into the secret.” “Sarrah bit of a secret, or anything at all of the kind, has he learned from me these fifteen weeks come St. John’s Eve,” says I, “for we have scarce been upon speaking terms of late. But what is it your honour means of a secret?” “Why, the secret of the little keepsake I gave my Lady Rackrent the morning she left us, that she might not go back empty-handed to her friends.” “My Lady Rackrent, I’m sure, has baubles and keepsakes enough, as those bills on the table will show,” says Jason; “but whatever it is,” says he, taking up his pen, “we must add it to the balance, for to be sure it can’t be paid for.” “No, nor can’t till after my decease,” says Sir Condy; “that’s one good thing.” Then colouring up a good deal, he tells Jason of the memorandum of the five hundred a year jointure he had settled upon my lady; at which Jason was indeed mad, and said a great deal in very high words, that it was using a gentleman who had the management of his affairs, and was, moreover, his principal creditor, extremely ill to do such a thing without consulting him, and against his knowledge and consent. To all which Sir Condy had nothing to reply, but that, upon his conscience, it was in a hurry and without a moment’s
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