By-and-by, with the spring weather, a little “talk” began to circulate. It was whispered that Mr. Ulick had given Mary Foley his red pup, and that more than once he had been seen walking out with her! The news came to the ears of Father Daly, who had indeed beheld the couple with his own two eyes, and promptly descended upon Mrs. Foley and Mary, and gave them an impressive, never-to-be-forgotten lecture. The gossip also reached Mrs. Doran, who was furious. She made no remark to her son, but she went to Foley’s corner, and enacted a great scene with Katty, having discovered that unhappy woman alone. The lady strode into the cottage, and began without any preamble, such as “How are you?” or “A fine day!” “Katty Foley, only you have a lease here, do you know that I’d throw you into the road!” Long residence in Ireland had infected the matron’s vocabulary. “Ah, for why, me lady?” rising stiffly as she spoke. “Why? Because of your daughter’s brazen behaviour with my son, Mr. Ulick. It’s the scandal of the county.” “Mary is a good girl,” responded Katty, in a tremulous voice. “God knows there’s no harm in her, whativer.” “Is there not? She is going the right way about losing her character, walking the roads with a gentleman.” “She never did no such thing! Once I’ll allow he overtook her; on another time she overtook him--it was a pure accident.” “An accident on purpose!” said Mrs. Doran venomously. “She waylaid him. And I suppose he has not lent her books; that’s not his dog lying there?” “Sure, Mr. Ulick gave him to me, because the house is so lonesome, me lady,” she answered, with submissive deprecation. “No one in the house since I buried poor John, so Mr. Ulick, he says, ‘Would you like a dog, Katty?’ and there he is.” “There he is, indeed! Love me, love my dog. You could have got one anywhere; pups are as common as kittens. He gave that terrier to Mary--a prize one, that cost him three guineas.” As Mrs. Foley could not combat this statement, her visitor resumed: “I’ve just come to say one word, and it is my last. If you encourage my son here, and he ever darkens your door, you never enter my gates, and I will make it very unpleasant for you, Mrs. Foley. Look after your daughter, forbid her to speak to him, or you will be sorry yet. You don’t suppose that he would marry her, do you?” “God knows I never thought of such a thing, my lady; I’d never wish my girl to be looked down on. I would not let him put a ring on her; I have my pride.” “_Your_ pride!” cried Mrs. Doran. “Well, that is a good joke. Your pride!” she repeated hysterically, as she swept out of the kitchen, like a tornado in black petticoats.