"She may be able to do that; but I'm blessed if she's fit to go to Kanturk and back." "She's done the work, anyhow," said Mr. O'Dwyer, who evidently thought that this last argument was conclusive. "And a precious time she's been about it. Why, my goodness, it would have been better for me to have walked it. As Sir Thomas said to me--" "What! did you see Sir Thomas Fitzgerald?" Hereupon Aby gave his father a nudge; but the father either did not appreciate the nudge, or did not choose to obey it. "Yes; I did see him. Why shouldn't I?" "Only they do say he's hard to get to speak to now-a-days. He's not over well, you know, these years back." "Well or ill he'll see me, I take it, when I go that distance to ask him. There's no doubt about that; is there, Aby?" "Can't say, I'm sure, not knowing the gentleman," said Aby. "We holds land from Sir Thomas, we do; that is, me and my brother Mick, and a better landlord ain't nowhere," said Mr. O'Dwyer. "Oh, you're one of the tenants, are you? The rents are paid pretty well, ain't they?" "To the day," said Mr. O'Dwyer, proudly. "What would you think now--" Mr. Mollett was continuing; but Aby interrupted him somewhat violently. "Hold your confounded stupid tongue, will you, you old jolterhead;" and on this occasion he put his hand on his father's shoulder and shook him. "Who are you calling jolterhead? Who do you dare to speak to in that way? you impudent young cub you. Am I to ask your leave when I want to open my mouth?" Aby had well known that his father in his present mood would not stand the manner in which the interruption was attempted. Nor did he wish to quarrel before the publican and his daughter. But anything was better than allowing his father to continue in the strain in which he was talking. "You are talking of things which you don't hunderstand, and about people you don't know," said Aby. "You've had a drop too much on the road too, and you 'ad better go to bed." Old Mollett turned round to strike at his son; but even in his present state he was somewhat quelled by Aby's eye. Aby was keenly alive to the necessity for prudence on his father's part, though he was by no means able to be prudent himself. "Talking of things which I don't understand, am I?" said the old man. "That's all you know about it. Give me another glass of that brandy toddy, my dear." But Aby's look had quelled, or at any rate silenced him; and though he did advance another stage in tipsiness before they succeeded in getting him off to bed, he said no more about Sir Thomas Fitzgerald or his Castle Richmond secrets.