“Shure you may go in with me when I give him his medicine.” Ellen Barclay followed Mrs. Hogan into the opposite room, and looked with strange interest at the wan, emaciated old man stretched out on the bed. “I’ve brought your medicine for you, Jerry,” said Mrs. Hogan, soothingly. “Jerry!” exclaimed the younger woman. “Is his name Jerry?” “Shure it is; and what thin?” “My husband’s father was named Jeremiah. This may be he.” “Have you niver seen him?” asked Mrs. Hogan, in surprise. “Never; I did not know he was living till my husband’s recent visit. Then he spoke of his father’s being a miser, and his expecting to get some money from him.” “Well, well; if I ever heard the like! As like as not old Jerry is your father in law. I’ll soon see.” “Jerry, do you want to see your own son?” she asked, bending over, and addressing her patient. An expression of alarm overspread the old man’s face. “Don’t let him come in! Keep him away!” he exclaimed. “Are you afraid of your own son, thin?” asked the nurse. “He is a bad man; he tried to rob me,” said the old man, looking about him fearfully. “I do believe it’s that man I threw the bilin’ water on!” exclaimed Mrs. Hogan, in surprise. “What’s your husband’s appearance, Mrs. Barclay?” “He is tall and thick set, and his hair is inclined to be red.” “Has he a scar on his right cheek?” “Yes.” “That’s the same man I drove away last week, wid the bilin’ water. He was trying to hurt old Jerry, wasn’t he, Jerry?” “Yes, yes,” muttered the old man. “He’s a bad man, and he wanted to take away all my money, and I’m so poor.” “Is he so poor?” asked Mrs. Barclay. “No, it’s only his fancy. He’s what you call a miser; that’s what Paul says.” “Where is Paul? Paul is a good boy!” murmured Jerry, half unconscious, but his attention arrested by the familiar name. “Yes, he is a good boy,” repeated Mrs. Hogan. “It’s he that engaged me to take care of Jerry, when he was took sick, and he tould me he’d see that I was paid.” “How long has this boy been with him? I remember now Mr. Barclay mentioned a telegraph boy. He didn’t seem to like him. I should like to see the boy; perhaps he could tell me something of the old man, and help me to decide whether he is really my husband’s father. On what day did James call here?” Mrs. Hogan told her. “It was the day after he left me. You say he got no money?” “No; but he would if I hadn’t come in.” “It is strange he has not been here since.” “No, it isn’t, Mrs. Barclay; he was took in by a policeman, and I expect he’s on the Island.” Ellen Barclay breathed a sigh of relief. Had her husband been the man he should have been, such news would have brought sorrow and distress. Now she regarded it as an augury of peace. While he was in confinement he would not be able to molest her. “When can I see this boy, Paul?” she asked. “Paul is generally at home some part of the evening, though he’s liable to come in at odd times.”