“He's off now to 'the Lodge'--devil fear him--faix if he gets in there, they'll not get him out so asy--they'll have a pain for every day of the week before he leaves them. Well, well, thanks be to God, he's out of this.” “Is he gone, Kerry?” said Mrs. Branagan. “Did he leave a 'cure' for Master Herbert before he went?” “Sorra bit,” cried Kerry, as if a sudden thought struck him, “that's what he didn't!” and without hesitating another moment, he sprung from his chair, and mounted the stairs towards the parlour, where now the O'Donoghue, Mark, and Sir Archy were assembled at breakfast. “He's away, sir, he's off again,” said Kerry, as though the nature of his tidings did not demand any more ceremonious preliminary. “Who's away? Who's gone?” cried they all in breath. “The Doctor, sir, Doctor Roach. There was a chap in a sky-blue livery came up with a bit of a letter for him to go down there, and when he read it, he just turned about, this way,” here Kerry performed a not over graceful pirouette, “and without saying by yer leave, he walks down the road and gets into the coach. 'Won't you see Master Herbert before you go, sir,' says I; 'sure you're not leaving him that way?' but bad luck to one word he'd say, but went away wid a grin on him.” “What!” cried Mark, as his face crimsoned with passion. “Is this true?--are you sure of what you're saying?” “I'll take the book an it,” said Kerry, solemnly. “Well, Archy,” said the O'Donoghue, addressing his brother-in-law. “You are a good judge of these matters. Is this conduct on the part of our neighbour suitable or becoming? Was it exactly right and proper to send here for one, whose services we had taken the trouble to seek, and might much have needed besides? Should we not have been consulted, think you?” “There's not a poor farmer in the glen would not resent it!” cried Mark, passionately. “Bide a wee, bide a wee,” said Sir Archy, cautiously, “we hae na heard a' the tale yet. Roach may perhaps explain.” “He had better not come here, to do so,” interrupted Mark, as he strode the room in passion; “he has a taste for hasty departures, and, by G--, I'll help him to one; for out of that window he goes, as sure as my name is Mark.” “'Tis the way to serve him, divil a doubt,” chimed in Kerry, who was not sorry to think how agreeably he might thus be relieved from any legal difficulties. “I am no seeking to excuse the man,” said Sir Archy, temperately. “It's weel kenned we hae na muckle love for ane anither; but fair play is bonnie play.” “I never heard a mean action yet, but there was a Scotch adage to warrant it,” muttered Mark, in a whisper inaudible by the rest. “Its no' improbable but that Sir Marmaduke Travers did ask if the Doctor could be spared, and it's no' impossible, either, that Roach took the answering the question in his ain hands.” “I don't think so,” broke in Mark; “the whole thing bears a different aspect. It smacks of English courtesy to an Irish kern.”