CHAPTER VIII.


THE SQUIRE'S TROUBLE.

Nora and her father went slowly down a shady walk, which led in the
direction of the shore. Soon they found themselves in a hay-field. The
crop here was not particularly good. The hay had been spoiled by rains,
which had soaked down on the lands a fortnight ago. It was stunted in
height, and in some parts had that impoverished appearance which is so
painful to the heart of the good farmer.

Squire O'Shanaghgan, notwithstanding his somewhat careless ways, was
really a capital farmer. He had the best interests of the land at
heart, and did his utmost to get profit out of his many acres. He
now shook his head over the hay-crop.

"It's just like all the rest, Norrie--everything going to ruin--the
whole place going to the dogs; and yet--and yet, colleen, it's about
the sweetest bit of earth in all God's world. I wouldn't give
O'Shanaghgan for the grandest place in the whole of England; and I
told your lady-mother so this morning."

"Why did you say it, father? Had mother been--"

"Oh, nothing, child--nothing; the old grumbles. But it's her way,
poor dear; she can't help herself; she was born so. It's not to be
expected that she who was brought up in that prim land over yonder,
where everything is cut and dry, and no one ever thinks of managing