"But Herbert stopped, and introduced me at once to Father Barney."

"What! a regular introduction? I like that, indeed."

"He didn't do it altogether badly. He said something about being glad to see two gentlemen together--"

"A gentleman, indeed!"

"--who were both so anxious to do the best they could in the parish, and whose influence was so great--or something to that effect. And then we shook hands."

"You did shake hands?"

"Oh, yes; if I went there at all, it was necessary that I should do that."

"I am very glad it was not me, that's all. I don't think I could shake hands with Father Barney."

"There's no knowing what you can do, my dear, till you try."

"H--m," said Mrs. Townsend, meaning to signify thereby that she was still strong in the strength of her own impossibilities.

"And then there was a little general conversation about the potato, for no one came in for a quarter of an hour or so. The priest said that they were as badly off in Limerick and Clare as we are here.

Now, I don't believe that; and when I asked him how he knew, he quoted the 'Freeman.'"

"The 'Freeman,' indeed! Just like him. I wonder it wasn't the 'Nation.'" In Mrs. Townsend's estimation, the parish priest was much to blame because he did not draw his public information from some newspaper specially addicted to the support of the Protestant cause.

"And then Somers came in, and he took the chair. I was very much afraid at one time that Father Barney was going to seat himself there."

"You couldn't possibly have stood that?"

"I had made up my mind what to do. I should have walked about the room, and looked on the whole affair as altogether irregular,--as though there was no chairman. But Somers was of course the proper man."

"And who else came?"

"There was O'Leary, from Boherbue."

"He was another Papist?"

"Oh, yes; there was a majority of them. There was Greilly, the man who has got that large take of land over beyond Banteer; and then Father Barney's coadjutor came in."

"What! that wretched-looking man from Gortnaclough?"

"Yes; he's the curate of the parish, you know."

"And did you shake hands with him too?"

"Indeed I did; and you never saw a fellow look so ashamed of himself in your life."

"Well, there isn't much shame about them generally."

"And there wasn't much about him by-and-by. You never heard a man talk such trash in your life, till Somers put him down."

"Oh, he was put down? I'm glad of that."

"And to do Father Barney justice, he did tell him to hold his tongue.

The fool began to make a regular set speech."

"Father Barney, I suppose, didn't choose that anybody should do that but himself."

"He did enough for the two, certainly. I never heard a man so fond of his own voice. What he wants is to rule it all just his own way."

"Of course he does; and that's just what you won't let him do. What other reason can there be for your going there?"

And so the matter was discussed. What absolute steps were taken by the committee; how they agreed to buy so much meal of such a merchant, at such a price, and with such funds; how it was to be resold, and never given away on any pretext; how Mr. Somers had explained that giving away their means was killing the goose that laid the golden eggs, when the young priest, in an att.i.tude for oratory, declared that the poor had no money with which to make the purchase; and how in a few weeks' time they would be able to grind their own flour at Herbert Fitzgerald's mill;--all this was also told. But the telling did not give so much gratification to Mrs.

Townsend as the sly hits against the two priests.

And then, while they were still in the middle of all this; when the punch-jug had given way to the teapot, and the rector was beginning to bethink himself that a nap in his arm-chair would be very refreshing, Jerry came into the room to announce that Richard had come over from Castle Richmond with a note for "his riverence." And so Richard was shown in.

Now Richard might very well have sent in his note by Jerry, which after all contained only some information with reference to a list of old women which Herbert Fitzgerald had promised to send over to the glebe. But Richard knew that the minister would wish to chat with him, and Richard himself had no indisposition for a little conversation.

"I hope yer riverences is quite well then," said Richard, as he tendered his note, making a double bow, so as to include them both.

"Pretty well, thank you," said Mrs. Townsend. "And how's all the family?"

"Well, then, they're all rightly, considhering. The Masther's no just what he war, you know, ma'am."

"I'm afraid not--I'm afraid not," said the rector. "You'll not take a gla.s.s of spirits, Richard?"

"Yer riverence knows I never does that," said Richard, with somewhat of a conscious look of high morality, for he was a rigid teetotaller.

"And do you mean to say that you stick to that always?" said Mrs.

Townsend, who firmly believed that no good could come out of Nazareth, and that even abstinence from whisky must be bad if accompanied by anything in the shape of a Roman Catholic ceremony.

"I do mean to say, ma'am, that I never touched a dhrop of anything sthronger than wather, barring tay, since the time I got the pledge from the blessed apostle." And Richard boldly crossed himself in the presence of them both. They knew well whom he meant by the blessed apostle: it was Father Mathew.

"Temperance is a very good thing, however we may come by it," said Mr. Townsend, who meant to imply by this that Richard's temperance had been come by in the worst way possible.

"That's thrue for you, sir," said Richard; "but I never knew any pledge kept, only the blessed apostle's." By which he meant to imply that no sanct.i.ty inherent in Mr. Townsend's sacerdotal proceedings could be of any such efficacy.

And then Mr. Townsend read the note. "Ah, yes," said he; "tell Mr.

Herbert that I'm very much obliged to him. There will be no other answer necessary."

"Very well, yer riverence, I'll be sure to give Mr. Herbert the message." And Richard made a sign as though he were going.

"But tell me, Richard," said Mrs. Townsend, "is Sir Thomas any better? for we have been really very uneasy about him."

"Indeed and he is, ma'am; a dail betther this morning, the Lord be praised."

"It was a kind of a fit, wasn't it, Richard?" asked the parson.