"
After running this speech glibly off, Mrs. Hill, without waiting to hear
a syllable from poor Phoebe, trotted off in search of her consort. It
was not, however, quite so easy a task as his wife expected, to bring Mr.
Hill round to her opinion. He was slow in declaring himself of any
opinion; but when once he had said a thing, there was but little chance
of altering his notions. On this occasion Mr. Hill was doubly bound to
his prejudice against our unlucky Irishman; for he had mentioned with
great solemnity at the club which he frequented the grand affair of the
hole under the foundation of the cathedral, and his suspicions that there
was a design to blow it up. Several of the club had laughed at this
idea; others, who supposed that Mr. O'Neill was a Roman Catholic, and who
had a confused notion that a Roman Catholic must be a very wicked,
dangerous being, thought that there might be a great deal in the verger's
suggestions, and observed that a very watchful eye ought to be kept upon
this Irish glover, who had come to settle at Hereford nobody knew why,
and who seemed to have money at command nobody knew how.
The news of this ball sounded to Mr. Hill's prejudiced imagination like
the news of a conspiracy. "Ay! ay!" thought he; "the Irishman is cunning
enough! But we shall be too many for him: he wants to throw all the good
sober folks of Hereford off their guard by feasting, and dancing, and
carousing, I take it, and so to perpetrate his evil design when it is
least suspected; but we shall be prepared for him, fools as he takes us
plain Englishmen to be, I warrant.
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