“I know, I know,” interposed Mrs. Malone, laying down her work, with a dismal sigh. “I am afraid she must strike you as ill-mannered and pert; Julia thought so, too; but then she told a whole room full of visitors that Julia was coming as soon as she had put in her new teeth; the child is a great help to me in the house, and remarkably open and truthful, as you may notice.” “Yes, the very densest must admit _that_, but the naked truths she introduces so gleefully are not always pleasant additions to a family circle.” “Perhaps not--perhaps she is too outspoken; she ought to go to school. We must think it over, but in these hard times, George, I don’t know how we are to afford the expense.” “But I always understood that Major Malone had his land in his own hands.” “I am sorry to say he has, but farming is not his forte. We are always short of money. I cannot think how it is!” She knew but too well how it was. The ready money received for oats, barley, and young stock, went straight into the Major’s yawning pockets, and then mysteriously evaporated! How could she divulge to her son that his stepfather had lost seven hundred pounds at the Curragh, and nearly as much at Cork Park races; that his wine merchant and tailor were raving for their money; that the servants were owed a year’s wages; that she blushed to meet the baker’s wife, and was afraid to enter the post office. “How is Denis getting on, mother?” asked George, after a pause. “I really do not know,” she replied with evident reluctance. “Dr. Moran thinks he has abilities; he is fond of surgery, and you know, ever since he was quite a boy, he has always killed our pigs; he says himself that his next examination is absurdly easy.” “I am glad to hear it.” “You see he has such high spirits, poor fellow,” continued his doting parent, taking up arms for her darling, against something intangible in his elder brother’s voice. “He is so young and spirited. It’s hard to be tied down to books and loathsome disecting-rooms, when he is such a splendid shot, and so fond of hunting and fishing. He is very sorry now that he ever decided to be a doctor; he says he ought to have gone into the army like you.” “He can still be an army doctor.” “So he can,” sighed Mrs. Malone, once more resuming her needle. “Well, we must think it over.” George leant his elbow on the mantel-piece, and looked at her attentively. How different from the golden-haired angel of his childhood! How aged and thin, and worn she had become during these last five years! “Mother,” he said abruptly, “you are looking ill and worried; what is the matter? Have you any trouble on your mind?”