'I didn't mean to say you were angry, only I thought--' 'You thought what?' 'Well, my dear, I have only just been across to the barn.' This was uttered timidly and pleadingly, and as if our good housewife knew she had been doing wrong. Suddenly, a large red face started up from amongst the bed-clothes, ornamented with a peculiarly-shaped white cap and tassel. 'Now you haven't been after them Irishers again?' exclaimed the owner of the red face. 'The idle vagabonds! I vow to goodness that all our money, and food and clothing, too, I believe, go to feed a set of good-for-nothing, ragged rascals.' 'Hush, Davy! Remember they are God's creatures, and this is Sunday.' 'I don't know that. And if it's Sunday, why mayn't I sleep in peace?' 'Indeed, I am very sorry. But that poor girl I told you of is so ill!' 'Hang the poor girl! Then send her to the workhouse, and they'll give her a lift home.' 'But if she has no home?' 'Then let her go to her parish.' 'But they don't seem to have any parishes in Ireland.' 'No parishes! I suppose that's the geography the vagabonds teach you? Well you pay dear enough for your lessons. But I tell you what, Mary, you just go and tell 'em all to decamp this minute.' 'But the girl is too weak and ill.' 'Then send her to the Union, I say, and they are bound to forward her.' 'But a Sunday! and the House miles away! Oh, Davy, we really cannot do it to-day!' 'What with the Irish, and one charity and another, I declare there's no peace in life! Name o' goodness, 'oornan, why do you harbour such folk? If the girl's too ill to go on with her gang, they must leave her at the Union, or else get the overseers to send for her.' 'Will you just go and look at her?' 'No, I 'ont, and that's plain speaking!' Here the red face, and white night-cap and tassel, suddenly, disappeared amongst the bed-clothes. Mrs Prothero considered a few minutes, and again left the room, and went to the barn. Here, all was confusion and consultation. They had tried to help Gladys to rise, and the girl could not stand. A clamour of voices assailed Mrs Prothero, who was bewildered by the noise, and terrified at the remembrance of her husband. 'My good people, I don't know what to advise,' she said at last. 'She don't want to laive Carrmanthinshire, my leddy.' 'We'll be ruined intirely if we stop till she's cured, yer leddyship!' 'Niver a frind in the worrld, yer honour.' 'Her mother and father, sisthers and brothers, all dead of the faver and the famine.' 'Nobody left but her relations in Carrmarrthinshire, and, maybe, they're all dead and buried, yer honour's glory.' 'And what'll we do wid her, poor sowl?'