of the two
is craziest. Hey, diddle-diddle--by Jupiter, such a pair--the dish ran
away with the spoon; but Dan's a good creature, and we'll--we'll miss
him. I like Dan, and he loves the rector--I like him for that; where
there's gratitude and fidelity, Miss Mag, there's no lack of other
virtues, I warrant you--and the good doctor has been a wonderful loving
friend to poor Dan, and God bless him for it, say I, and amen.'

'And amen with all my heart,' said Miss Mag, gaily; ''tis an innocent
creature--poor Dan; though he'd be none the worse of a little more lace
to his hat, and a little less Latin in his head. But see here, doctor,
here's my poor old goose of a mother (and she kissed her cheek) as sick
as a cat in a tub.'

And she whispered something in Toole's wig, and they both laughed
uproariously.

'I would not take five guineas and tell you what she says,' cried Toole.

'Don't mind the old blackguard, mother dear!' screamed Magnolia, dealing
AEsculapius a lusty slap on the back; and the cook at that moment
knocking at the door, called off the young lady to the larder, who
cried over her shoulder as she lingered a moment at the door--'Now, send
her something, Toole, for my sake, to do her poor heart good. Do you
mind--for faith and troth the dear old soul is sick and sad; and I won't
let that brute, Sturk, though he does wear our uniform, next or near
her.'

'Well, 'tisn't for me to say, eh?--and now she's gone,--just let me
try.' And he took her pulse.

CHAPTER XXX.

CONCERNING A CERTAIN WOMAN IN BLACK.

And Toole, holding her stout wrist, felt her pulse and said--'Hem--I
see--and--'

And so he ran on with half-a-dozen questions, and at the end of his
catechism said, bluntly enough--

'I tell you what it is, Mrs. Mack, you have something on your mind, my
dear Madam, and till it's off, you'll never be better.'

Poor Mrs. Mack opened her eyes, and made a gesture of amazed disclaimer,
with her hands palm upwards. It was all affectation.

'Pish!' said Toole, who saw the secret almost in his grasp; 'don't tell
me, my dear Madam--don't you think I know my business by this time o'
day? I tell you again you'd better ease your mind--or take my word for
it you'll be sorry too late. How would you like to go off like poor old
Peggy Slowe--eh? There's more paralysis, apoplexy, heart-diseases, and
lunacy, caused in one year by that sort of silly secrecy and moping,
than by--hang it! My dear Madam,' urged T