the room where I lay kicking up the
devil's own din in my cradle. And when he held it up to me, with the
light shining on the silver, and the black ribbons hanging down, never
believe him if I didn't stop squalling, and stretch out my hands with a
smile as sweet as sunshine. And Barney tied it round my neck, and took
me into his arms. And they said he spoke never a word when they told him
my mother was dead, and shed never a tear when he saw her lie, but he
sobbed his heart out over me."

"You may well care for him!" said I.

"Indeed I may. He kept my mother's memory green in my heart, and he
taught me all ever I knew but books. He taught me to walk, and he taught
me to ride, and shooting, and fishing, and such like country diversions;
and strange to say, he taught me to swim, the way they learn in my
mother's country, with a bundle of bull-rushes--for the old man couldn't
swim a stroke himself, or he might be here now, alive and hearty, please
GOD."

"Were there only you and he in the hooker?"

"That's all. It was altogether sheer madness, for the old boat was
barely fit for a day's fishing in fine weather, and though Barney nearly
killed himself overhauling her, and patching her sails, I doubt if he
knew very well what he was after. I've been thinking, Jack, that his
mind was not what it was. He was always a bit obstinate, if he got a
notion into his head, but of late the squire himself couldn't turn him.
When he wanted to do a thing about the place that Barney didn't approve,
if he didn't give in (as he was apt to do, being easy-tempered) I can
tell ye he had to do it on the sly. That was how he ordered the new
ploughs that nearly broke Barney's heart, both because of being
new-fangled machines, and ready money having to be paid for them. 'I'll
see the ould place ruined before ye come to your own, Master Dennis,' he
told me. And--Jack! that's another thing makes me think what I tell ye.
He was for ever talking as if the place was coming to me, and I've two
brothers older than myself, let alone my sister. But ye might as well
reason with the rock of Croagh Patrick! Well, if he didn't ask my father
to let him and me run round in the hooker with a load of sea-weed for
Tim Brady's farm, and of course we got leave, and started as pleasant as
could be; barring that if Barney'd been a year or two younger, there'd
have been wigs on the green over the cold potatoes, before we got off."

"_Wigs on the green over cold pot