rdly. He only muttered
something in reply to his brother's question of how far he had walked.

'I think I will go to Priscilla,' he said, with a touch of sullenness
that was mere shyness and discomfort. 'Don't let me interrupt you and
this young lady, Tom.' And before Mr. O'Brien could utter a
remonstrance, he was gone.

'I am afraid I am in the way,' suggested Audrey. 'Perhaps your brother
does not like to see people. It is growing dark, so I may as well start
at once. Mr. Blake has promised to meet me, so I shall not have a
solitary walk.'

'Nay, you must not go without your cup of tea,' returned the old man,
rubbing up his hair in a vexed manner; 'I hear Prissy clattering with
the cups. Don't fash your head about the lad; he is a bit shamed of
looking honest folk in the face; but we'll get him over that. Sit you
down, and I will fetch him out of the kitchen.' And without heeding her
entreaties to be allowed to go, Mr. O'Brien hurried her into the next
room, where the usual bountiful meal was already spread, and where Mrs.
Baxter awaited them with an injured expression of face.

'I think father has gone clean daft over Uncle Mat,' she observed, as
Mr. O'Brien departed on his quest. 'Draw up to the table, Miss Ross.
Father will be back directly; but he won't touch a mouthful until he
sees Uncle Mat in his usual place; he fashes after him from morning to
night, and can hardly bear him out of his sight. It is "Mat, come here,
alongside of me," or "Try this dish of Prissy's, my lad," until you
would think there was not another person in the house. It is a bit
trying, Miss Ross, I must confess; though I won't fly in the face of
Providence, and say I am not glad that the sinner has come home. But
there, one must have one's trials; and Heaven knows I have had a
plentiful share of thorns and briars in my time!'

'I am sorry to hear you speak like this, Mrs. Baxter. I was hoping that
you would rejoice in Mr. O'Brien's happiness. Think how he has longed
for years to see his brother's face again!'

Mrs. Baxter shook her head mournfully.

'Ay, Miss Ross; but the best of us are poor ignorant creatures, and,
maybe, the blessings we long for will turn to a curse in the end. I
doubt whether our little cottage will be the restful place it was before
Uncle Mat came home. He has gone to a bad school to learn manners; and
wild oats and tares and the husks that the swine did eat are poor crops,
after all, Miss Ross,' finished Pris