“I’ll go up to the Castle,” she said, “and see him to-morrow morning.” Jimmy O’Loughlin sent a message to Patsy Devlin, asking him to call at the hotel that evening. The fact that he had not been elected inspector of sheep dipping still rankled in Patsy’s mind. He blamed Jimmy O’Loughlin more than any one else for his rejection. He made up his mind to obey the summons, but not to be seduced from the path of righteous wrath by porter or whisky. He would refuse contemptuously to oblige Jimmy in any way. He was received in Jimmy O’Loughlin’s private office, a small room at the back of the hotel, which looked out on the yard. The walls were adorned with two pictures, enlarged photographs of eminent ecclesiastics with small eyes and puffy cheeks. The table was mahogany and was covered with circular stains of various sizes. There was a sideboard with a very dilapidated cruet-stand and two teapots on it. The chairs were all rickety. A writing-desk, which stood under the window, was littered with a number of exceedingly dirty papers. On the table in the middle of the room, by way of preparation for Patsy’s visit, were arranged a jug of porter, a bottle of whisky, a water croft, and several tumblers. “Fill your glass,” said Jimmy hospitably, “and light your pipe. You can start on the porter, and finish up with the spirits.” Patsy poured out the porter suspiciously, and drank a tumbler full without any sign of appreciation. “There isn’t one about the place,” said Jimmy, “that’s better acquainted with the old earl up at the Castle than yourself. He thinks a deal of you, and well he may.” “He gave me a letter,” said Patsy, “at the time of the election. But it’s little heed you or the rest of them paid to it.” Jimmy was anxious to avoid the subject of the election. “I’m told,” he said, “that whatever you might ask of him, he’d do.” Patsy was susceptible to flattery of this kind. “He always thought a deal of me and my father before me,” he said. “You could tell the opinion he had of me by the letter he wrote. And why wouldn’t he when either my father or myself put the shoes on every horse that’s come and gone from the Castle this fifty years.” “I could tell what he thought of you,” said Jimmy. “Sure anybody could.” “You could tell it, if so be you read the letter.” “The doctor’s young lady,” said Jimmy, “is going up to see the earl to-morrow. The Lord save her! but she’s half distracted with grief this minute.” “And what good will going to the Castle do her? Sure he doesn’t know where the doctor is no more than another.” “He might tell her the truth,” said Jimmy. “Be damn! but he might, not knowing.” “And if he did, the girl’s heart would be broke.” “It would surely.”