"Nora, if I were you I wouldn't interfere. You are only a young girl,
and these kind of things are quite out of your province. Father has
pulled along ever since you and I were born. Most Irish gentlemen
are poor in these days. How can they help it? The whole country is
going to ruin; there is no proper trade; there is no proper system
anywhere. The tenants are allowed to pay their rent just as they
please----"

"As if we could harry them," said inconsistent Nora. "The poor
dears, with their tiny cots and their hard, hard times. I'd rather
eat dry bread all my days than press one of them."

"If these are your silly views, you must expect our father to be badly
off, and the property to go to the dogs, and everything to come to an
end," said the brother in a discontented tone. "But there, I say once
more that you have exaggerated in this matter; there is nothing more
wrong than there has been since I can remember. I am glad I am going
to England; I am glad I am going to be out of it all for a bit."

"You going to England--you, Terry?"

"Yes. Don't you know? Our Uncle George Hartrick has asked me to stay
with him, and I am going."

"And you can go? You can leave us just now?"

"Why, of course; there will be fewer mouths to feed. It's a good
thing every way."

"But Uncle George is a rich man?"