Bridget began to whine, "Yez wouldn't turn a woman out in the noight and
storm."

"You are not a woman!" thundered Holcroft, "you are a jackal, too! Get your
traps and begone! I warn the whole lot of you to beware! I give you this
chance to get off the premises, and then I shall watch for you all, old and
young!"

There was something terrible and flame-like in his anger, dismaying the
cormorants, and they hastened away with such alacrity that Bridget went down
the lane screaming, "Sthop, I tell yees, and be afther waitin' for me!"

Holcroft hurled the jug after them with words that sounded like an
imprecation. He next turned to the viands on the table with an expression of
loathing, gathered them up, and carried them to the hog pen. He seemed
possessed by a feverish impatience to banish every vestige of those whom he
had driven forth, and to restore the apartment as nearly as possible to the
aspect it had worn in former happy years. At last, he sat down where his wife
had been accustomed to sit, unbuttoned his waistcoat and flannel shirt, and
from against his naked breast took an old, worn daguerreotype. He looked a
moment at the plain, good face reflected there, them, bowing his head upon it,
strong, convulsive sobs shook his frame, though not a tear moistened his eyes.

How long the paroxysm would have lasted it were hard to say, had not the
impatient whinnying of his horses, still exposed to the storm, caught his
attention. The lifelong habit of caring for the dumb animals in his charge
asserted itself. He went out mechanically, unharnessed and stabled them as
carefully as ever before in his life, then returned and wearily prepared
himself a pot of coffee, which, with a crust of bread, was all the supper he