to be pitied than condemned, and his popularity was in no way abated
by it. Mr. Fetherston was unmarried, in age about sixty; tall, stout,
red-faced, of good family, a noted woodcock shot and salmon fisher, a
carpenter, and an incessant pipe-smoker. These being his leading
gifts, it will probably, and with accuracy, be surmised by persons
conversant with the Irish Church, that he was a survival of its
earliest days, when it was still an avocation suitable for gentlemen,
and one in which they could indulge without any taint of
professionalism being laid to their charge. He was immensely respected
and admired by the poor people of the parish (none of whom were
included in his small and well-to-do congregation), the fact that he
was what is known as "old stock," giving him a prestige among the
poorer Roman Catholics, that they would have denied to St. Peter. He
shared with Major Talbot-Lowry the position of consultant in feuds,
and relieving officer in distress, and, being rich, liberal, easily
bored, and not particularly sympathetic to affliction, he was
accustomed to stanch the flow of tears and talk alike, with a form of
solace that rarely failed to meet the case, and was always acceptable.
With Miss Coppinger, he felt, regretfully, that five shillings could
in no way be brought to bear upon her problem, and with an effort he
withdrew his mind from a new hinge that he thought of fitting to a
garden-gate, and applied it to Larry.

"How old is the boy now? Sixteen last October? He doesn't look as
much--you'll see he'll outgrow all that nonsense of Nationalism! Send
him to Oxford as soon as you can. He'll soon get hold of some other
tomfoolery there, and forget this. Seven devils worse than the first,
in fact!"

The Reverend Charles laughed, wheezily, and began, automatically, to