old
curmudgeon my father-in-law, and all enemies at Mount Juliet's Town.'
Now my lady was no longer in the mind she formerly was, and did noways
relish hearing her own friends abused in her presence, she said.

'Then why don't they show themselves your friends' said my master, 'and
oblige me with the loan of the money I condescended, by your advice, my
dear, to ask? It's now three posts since I sent off my letter, desiring
in the postscript a speedy answer by the return of the post, and no
account at all from them yet.'

'I expect they'll write to ME next post,' says my lady, and that was
all that passed then; but it was easy from this to guess there was a
coolness betwixt them, and with good cause.

The next morning, being post-day, I sent off the gossoon early to
the post-office, to see was there any letter likely to set matters to
rights, and he brought back one with the proper postmark upon it, sure
enough, and I had no time to examine or make any conjecture more about
it, for into the servants' hall pops Mrs. Jane with a blue bandbox in
her hand, quite entirely mad.

'Dear ma'am, and what's the matter?' says I.

'Matter enough,' says she; 'don't you see my bandbox is wet through,
and my best bonnet here spoiled, besides my lady's, and all by the rain
coming in through that gallery window that you might have got mended if
you'd had any sense, Thady, all the time we were in town in the winter?'

'Sure, I could not get the glazier, ma'am,' says I.

'You might have stopped it up anyhow,' says she.

'So I, did, ma'am, to the best of my ability; one of the panes with
the old pillow-case, and the other with a piece of the old stage green
curtain. Sure I was as careful as possible all the time you were away,
and not a drop of rain came in at that window of all the windows in the
house, all winter, ma'am, when under my care; and now the family's come
home, and it's summer-time, I never thought no more about it, to be
sure; but dear, it's a pity to think of your bonnet, ma'am. But here's
what will please you, ma'am--a letter from Mount Juliet's Town for my
lady.

With that she snatches it from me without a word more, and runs up
the back stairs to my mistress; I follows with a slate to make up the
window. This window was in the long passage, or gallery, as my lady
gave out orders to have it called, in the gallery leading to my master's
bedchamber and hers. And when I went up with the slate, the door having
no loc