"The first thing to do is to put out that light," said Nora. She ran
to the dressing table, and before her brother could prevent her had
extinguished the candle.

"Now, then, there is the dear old lady moon to look down upon us,
and nothing else can see us."

"Why don't you go to bed, Nora? Hannah would say that you are losing
your beauty-sleep sitting up at this, hour."

"As if anything about me mattered just now," said Nora.

"Why, what's up?"

"The old thing, Terry; you must know what's up."

"What old thing? I am sure I can't guess."

"Well, then, if you can't you ought. Father is in a peck of trouble--a
peck of trouble."

Nora's voice broke and trembled. Terence, who disliked a scene beyond
anything, fidgeted restlessly. He leaned out of the window, and dropped
his cigar ash on the ground beneath.

"And you are his only son and the heir to Castle O'Shanaghgan."

"The heir to a pack of ruins," said the boy impatiently.

"Terry, you don't deserve to be father's son. How dare you speak