ed to go on living just as she was with Mrs. Driscoll the
housekeeper to look after her and all the old servants to befriend her and
Mr. Hennessey to pay the bills.

Mr. Hennessey was in the house now. He had come down that morning from
Dublin to receive Mr. Pinckney, who was due to arrive that night.

Phyl, sitting on the hearthrug, was in the act of picking up her book when
the door opened and in came Mr. Hennessey.

He had been out in the grounds overlooking things and he came to the fire
to warm his hands, telling Phyl to sit easy and not disturb herself. Then,
as he held a big foot to the warmth he talked down at the girl, telling
her of what he had been about and the ruination Rafferty was letting the
greenhouses go to.

"Half-a-dozen panes of glass out--and 'I've no putty,' says he. 'Putty,'
said I to him, 'and what's that head of yours made of?' The stoves are all
out of order and there's a hole in one of the flues I could get my thumb
in."

"Rafferty's awfully good to the dogs," said Phyl in her mellow voice, so
well adapted for intercession. "He may be a bit careless, but he never
does forget to feed the animals. He's got the chickens to look after, too,
and then there's the beagles, he knows every dog in the pack and every dog
knows him--oh, dear, what's the good of it all!"

The thought of the beagles had brought up the vision of their master who
would never hunt with them again. Her voice became tinged with melancholy
and Hennessey changed the subject, taking his seat in one of the armchairs
that stood on either side of the fireplace.

He was a big, loosely-made man, an easy going man with a kind heart who
would have come to financial disaster long ago only for his partner,
Niven.

"He's almost due to be here by now," said he, taking out his watch and
looking at it, "unless the express from Dublin is late."

"What'll he be like, do you think?" said Phyl.

"There's no saying," replied Mr. Hennessey. "He's an American and I've
never had much dealings with Americans except by letter. By all accounts
they are sharp business men, but I daresay he is all right. The thing that
gets me is his coming over. Americans don't go thousands of miles for
nothing, but if it's after any hanky-panky business about the property,
maybe he'll find Jack Hennessey as sharp as any American."

"He's some sort of a relation of ours," said Phyl. "Father said he was a
sort of cousin."

"On your mother's side," said Hennes