An Englishman, when he finds himself in possession of spare cash spends it on material luxuries for himself and, if he is a good man, for his family. He buys better food, better clothes, and furniture of a kind not absolutely necessary, like pianos. An Irishman, in a similar agreeable position, prefers pleasures of a more spiritual kind. Peter Joyce was perfectly content to wear a “bawneen” of homemade flannel and a pair of ragged trousers. He did not want anything better for dinner than boiled potatoes and fried slices of bacon. He had not the smallest desire to possess a piano or even an armchair. But he intended, in his own way, to get solid enjoyment out of his £20. It was after the children had gone to bed one evening that he discussed the matter with his wife. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but it might be as well to settle things up one way or another with that old reprobate Patrick Joseph Flanagan. It’s what I’ll have to do sooner or later.” “Them Flanagans,” said Mrs. Joyce, “is the devil. There isn’t a day passes but one or other of them has me tormented. If it isn’t her it’s one of the children, and if, by the grace of God, it isn’t the children it’s herself.” “What I’m thinking of,” said Joyce, “is taking the law of him.” “It’ll cost you something to do that,” said Mrs. Joyce cautiously. “And if it does, what matter? Haven’t I the money to pay for it?” “You have,” said Mrs. Joyce. “You have surely. And Flanagan deserves it, so he does. It’s not once nor twice, but it’s every day I do be saying there’s something should be done to them Flanagans.” “There’s more will be done to him than he cares for,” said Joyce grimly. “Wait till the County Court Judge gets at him. Believe me he’ll be sorry for himself then.” Peter Joyce started early next morning. He had an eight-mile walk before him and he wished to reach the town in good time, being anxious to put his case into the hands of Mr. Madden, the solicitor, before Mr. Madden became absorbed in the business of the day. Mr. Madden had the reputation of being the smartest lawyer in Connaught, and his time was very fully occupied. It took Joyce nearly three hours to reach the town and he had ample time to prepare his case against Flanagan as he went. There was no lack of material for the lawsuit. A feud of years’ standing provides many grievances which can fairly be brought into court. Joyce’s difficulty was to make a choice. He pondered deeply as he walked along the bare road across the bog. When he reached the door of Mr. Madden’s office he had a tale of injuries suffered at the hands of the Flanagans which would, he felt sure, move the judge to vindictive fury. Mr. Madden was already busy when Joyce was shown unto his room. “Well,” he said, “who are you and what do you want?”