An expression of distress, probably heightened by his vague and
unconscious sense of the squire's kindness, was depicted strongly on his
countenance, and ended in a burst of tears.

"Ha!" exclaimed Reilly, "poor Tom, sir, was with us to-night on our
duck-shooting excursion, and, now that I remember, remained behind us
in the old ruin--and then he is in tears. What can this mean? I will go
with you, Tom--excuse me, sir, for a few minutes--there can be no harm
in hearing what he has to say."

He accompanied the fool, with whom he remained for about six or eight
minutes, after which he re-entered the parlor with a face which strove
in vain to maintain its previous expression of ease and serenity.

"Well, Willy?" said the squire--"you see, by the way, I make an old
acquaintance of you--"

"You do me honor, sir," replied Reilly. "Well, what was this mighty
matter? Not a fool's message, I hope? eh!"

"No, sir," said the other, "but a matter of some importance."

"John," asked his master, as the butler entered, "did you give those
worthy fellows the money?"

"No, your honor," replied the other, they were gone before I went out."

"Well, well," replied his master, "it can't be helped. You will excuse
me, Mr.--a--a--yes--Mr. Reilly--Willy--Willy--ay, that's it--you will