“But he has _not_ passed,” bawled the Major. “I’ve heard by yesterday’s post he has failed for his final examination, and he is done for. The most I’ll do for him will be to give him a steerage passage to Australia, and a five-pound note.” “Man, that’s all balderdash and nonsense!”--that the Major should live to be apostrophised as a mere “man”! “Ye can’t turn your only son out into the world as ye would an ass on a bog, and him with a wife on his hands--ye bid to provide for him,” responded the widow in a tone of unshaken resolve. “Denis might make a good start in Australia,” ventured his step-brother. “You see he likes a country life: he rides well, and he knows a little about stock, and if he had a small share in a run, just a start, he might do very well.” “Then will _you_ start him?” enquired the Major, turning on him furiously, forgetting the recent plunge he had made into George’s pocket. “I am quite unable to do anything at present.” “Av _course_ the Major will assist his only son. It’s not your place, sir,” said Mrs. Maccabe emphatically. “The Major will give at least five hundred pounds, and their passages and outfit, and do the thing respectably, when he is about it,” speaking precisely as if the Major were miles away. He, with his eyes almost starting out of his head, assured her in forcible language (that cannot here be quoted) that he would not do anything of the sort. But this determined woman made him listen to what she called “reason”; she bargained and chaffered with him, as if she were buying a young stall-fed bullock, and when she had left the study, rather hoarse and breathless, she had gained her end. The Major would give four hundred pounds down on the nail; she herself (poor woman as she was) would put down two more. This money to be lodged in the hands of a respectable, honest man in Melbourne, who would see that Denis did not make ducks and drakes of it, but invest it prudently. The couple were to be married as soon as possible, and to take ship to Australia. “She would pay her niece’s passage, second class, and give her a sensible outfit, and no one could say but that she had done a handsome thing for a desolate, lorn widow woman, with no one to earn for her but herself, and hard work, and small returns, and _bad_ debts. She would not trouble the Major further at present, but maybe he would spake a word to Mr. Denis and tell him that he was not to go next or nigh Bridget Maccabe, as she would not be answerable for herself.”