ould sign her name,
but the writing of anything except her name was a difficulty to her. She
could read, though only if the print were large and the words were not
too long.

But she possessed certain qualities not very common in any class. She
had, for instance, quite enough common sense to save her from posing as
a great lady. Sir Tony lost caste by his marriage. Bridie Malone did not
sacrifice a single friend when she became Lady Corless. She remained on
excellent terms with her father, her six younger sisters, and her four
brothers. She remained on excellent terms with everyone in the village.

In the big house of which she became mistress she had her difficulties
at first. The other servants, especially the butler and the upper
housemaid, resented her promotion and sought new situations. Bridie
replaced them, replaced the whole staff with relatives of her own.

Castle Affey was run by the Malone family. Danny, a young man who helped
his father in the forge, became butler. Sarah Malone, Susy Malone, and
Mollie Malone swept the floors, made the beds, and lit the fires. Bridie
taught them their duties and saw that they did them thoroughly.
Though she was Lady Corless, she took her meals with her family in
the servants' hall and made it her business to see that Sir Tony was
thoroughly comfortable and well-fed. The old gentleman had never been so
comfortable in his life, or better fed.

He had never been so free from worry. Bridie took over the management of
the garden and farm. She employed her own relatives. There was an ample
supply of them, for almost everyone in the village was related to the
Ma-lones. She paid good wages, but she insisted on getting good work,
and she never allowed her husband to trouble about anything.

Old Sir Tony found life a much easier business than he had ever found it
before. He chuckled when Captain Corless, who paid an occasional visit
to Castle Affey, pitied him.

"You think I'm a doddering old fool," he said, "but, by gad, Tony, the
most sensible thing I ever did in my life was to marry Bridie Ma-lone!
If you're wise you'll take on your stepmother as housekeeper here and
general manager after I'm gone. Not that I'm thinking of going. I'm
seventy-two. You know that, Tony. But living as I do now, without a
single thing to bother me, I'm good for another twenty years--or thirty.
In fact, I don't see why the deuce I should ever die at all! It's worry
and work which kill men, and I've