There was present at this family interview a tall, gaunt, half-naked savage called Gallagher, who expressed audible approval of Welsh's remarks, and, at their close, called on the Blessed Virgin and all the saints to _blast_ Hugh's father and protect his uncle. This sanctimonious individual was the steward of Welsh's house, and had formerly been his most valuable ally. Hugh's father had once denounced Gallagher as a spy at a public gathering, whence he had been ignominiously ejected, and, in return, he had supplied the false evidence which led to the imprisonment and conviction of the three brothers. Gallagher had been of service to Welsh in many ways. He had aided Meg in the schemes which led to Mary Brontë becoming Welsh's wife, and he had been a partner with Meg in the foundling business. Their ways of dealing with superfluous children had been effective. These were supposed to be carried to the Dublin Foundling Hospital, but, inasmuch as no questions were asked, and no receipts given, the guilty parents were satisfied that their offspring should go "where the wicked cease from troubling." Gallagher was the original from which Emily Brontë drew her portrait of Joseph, in "Wuthering Heights," just as Heathcliff is modelled on Welsh. It was to the companionship of this human monster that Welsh committed his little nephew and ward. His name became of common use in County Down as a synonym for objectionable persons, and is so still. As soon as Welsh and Gallagher ceased speaking, Hugh looked around the mansion to which he had become presumptive heir. A happy pig with a large family lay on one side of the room, and a stack of peat was heaped up on the other side of the great open chimney. A broad, square bed stood in the end of the room, raised about a foot from the ground. The damp, uneven, earthen floor was unswept. On the backs of a few chairs, upholstered with straw ropes, a succession of hens perched, preliminary to flight to the cross-beams close up to the thatch. A lean, long-backed, rough-haired yellow dog stood by his side smelling him, without signs of welcome. Hugh listened to his uncle's hard, rasping words, and in reply said: "Are you going home soon?" "You are at home now," declared his uncle. "This is the only home you shall ever know, and you are beholden to me for it. Your father was glad to be rid of you, and this is your gratitude to me! No airs here, my fine fellow. Get to bed out of my way, and I'll find you something to do in the morning."