going to the agent
about it, for Sir Richard is away, and if he could hear of it--he's a
good landlord and would never see me wronged. But he says all the power
is gone from the landlord now, and that if the old man was to leave the
land to Parnell or another and away from all his own blood the law
couldn't stop him. So God help us! I dunno at all what'll I do."

"Had you any quarrel with your father that led to this?" asked Louise,
with sympathy that won the confidence of her companion, who had walked
on with her to the woods, where their path was brilliantly bordered by
the opaque red berries of the mountain ash, and the transparent hues of
the guelder-rose.

"None at all," was the answer. "They made the will unknownst to me, and
they have the little farm and the little stock, and all there is left to
themselves, and for me nothing but the outside of the door and the
workhouse."

"Do you think they threatened him or used force?" suggested the girl.

"Did they force him to do it, is it? They did not. But it's too much
whisky and raisin cakes they had, and me coming into the house after
selling a sick pig. I never heard word or sound about it till a
neighbouring man told me they were gathered in the house with the
priest, and looking for a witness, and I went in, and Peter Kane was in
the house preparing to sign his name, and I took him by the neck and
threw him out of the door, and the stepmother she took me by the skin of
the shirt, and gave me a slap across the face with the flat of her hand,
and I called Peter Kane to witness that she struck me, and he said he
never saw it. And why? Because he had a cup of whisky given him before,
and believe me, when he turned about, it smelled good! After that, no
decent man could be found to sign his name, till they got two paid men.
Sure there's schemers about that 'ud hang you up for half a glass of
whisky."

"And who drew up the will?" inquired Miss Eden.

"The curate, Father Sheehy that did it. Sure our own priest would never
have done it, but it was a strange curate from the County Mayo. And I
asked him did he know there was such a one as me in the world, and he
said he never did. Then yourself'll need forgiveness in heaven, Father,
says I, as well as that silly old man."

"Could you not speak quietly to your father about it?" suggested Louise.

"Sure I never see the old man but when I go into the room in the morning
to wipe my face with the little towel after wash