n you are at the very top, for advertising is the great power these
times. You will make and unmake kings and emperors of commerce."

Kathleen O'Connor was that evening kinder and more gracious to Denis
Quirk than she had been since Desmond had gone away. Mrs. Quirk, who had
noted their estrangement with wondering sorrow, smiled placidly as she
heard them laughing, while Molly Healy and Desmond exchanged jests
together.

"You are not cross with Denis now, Honey?" she asked the girl after the
two men had left the house--Denis for his office, and Desmond for the
hotel. "He is good at heart, if sometimes quick in his temper."

Molly Healy, who was preparing to drive home in Father Healy's jinker,
cried out:

"Denis is a great man! His heart is as big as your own, Granny!"

Kathleen kissed the old lady as she answered:

"I could not long be cross with anyone whom you loved."

"God reward you, Honey, for your kindness to an old woman," said Mrs.
Quirk, lovingly.

CHAPTER X.

RUMOUR, HYDRA-HEADED.

Ebenezer Brown lived a lonely life in an old house on the outskirts of
the town, the large garden surrounded by a high stone wall. There was
always a feeling of gloom about the house, no sound of voices, for
Ebenezer Brown was a bachelor, with no relations to care for him, and
only one elderly female to provide for his comfort. A venturesome
relation had on one occasion taken advantage of the old man's sickness
to attempt to secure a footing in his house; but no sooner was the old
man out of his bed than the relative was to be seen driving to the
station with her luggage. Warned by her fate, no other relation, male or
female, dared to enter the house.

It was seldom that lights were seen to gleam from the windows of the
house. Still more uncommon was it to find visitors assembled there. The
old man had a place of business in the town, and anyone wishing to see
him might find him there. He discouraged visitors, for visitors
suggested hospitality, and hospitality represented the expenditure of
money, the one and only thing that the old man valued.

Lights were, however, twinkling from Ebenezer Brown's dining room out
into the night a few evenings subsequently to Desmond O'Connor's visit
to Grey Town. A meagre attempt at hospitality had been made for the
visitors, a scanty supply of water biscuits, a few apples of an antique
appearance, with a bottle of limejuice and water. But not one of the
guests was sufficie