d be exchanged for unusual
quantities of tea. And the rise in prices was almost pure gain to these
farmers. They lived for the most part on the produce of their own land
and bought very little in shops. There came a time when Peter Joyce had
a comfortable sum, about L20 in all, laid by after making provision for
his rent and taxes. He felt entitled to some little indulgence.

An Englishman, when he finds himself in possession of spare cash spends
it on material luxuries for himself and, if he is a good man, for his
family. He buys better food, better clothes, and furniture of a kind not
absolutely necessary, like pianos. An Irishman, in a similar agreeable
position, prefers pleasures of a more spiritual kind. Peter Joyce was
perfectly content to wear a "bawneen" of homemade flannel and a pair of
ragged trousers. He did not want anything better for dinner than boiled
potatoes and fried slices of bacon. He had not the smallest desire to
possess a piano or even an armchair. But he intended, in his own way, to
get solid enjoyment out of his L20.

It was after the children had gone to bed one evening that he discussed
the matter with his wife.

"I'm not sure," he said, "but it might be as well to settle things up
one way or another with that old reprobate Patrick Joseph Flanagan. It's
what I'll have to do sooner or later."

"Them Flanagans," said Mrs. Joyce, "is the devil. There isn't a day
passes but one or other of them has me tormented. If it isn't her it's
one of the children, and if, by the grace of God, it isn't the children
it's herself."

"What I'm thinking of," said Joyce, "is taking the law of him."

"It'll cost you something to do that," said Mrs. Joyce cautiously.

"And if it does, what matter? Haven't I the money to pay for it?"

"You have," said Mrs. Joyce. "You have surely. And Flanagan deserves it,
so he does. It's not once nor twice, but it's every day I do be saying
there's something should be done to them Flanagans."

"There's more will be done to him than he cares for," said Joyce grimly.
"Wait till the County Court Judge gets at him. Believe me he'll be sorry
for himself then."

Peter Joyce started early next morning. He had an eight-mile walk before
him and he wished to reach the town in good time, being anxious to put
his case into the hands of Mr. Madden, the solicitor, before Mr.
Madden became absorbed in the business of the day. Mr. Madden had the
reputation of being the smartest lawyer i