_Maurice._ You can't have a solicitor, and a priest, and a chemist in a family without spending money, and for the last ten years you've been all drawing money out of the farm ... there's no more to drain now.... Oh, I suppose you think I'm a bloody fool not to be able to make it pay; but sure what chance have I and I never taught how to farm? There was money and education wanted to make priests and doctors and gentlemen of you all, and wasn't there money and education wanted to make a farmer of me? No; nothing taught me only what I picked up from my father and the men, and never a bit of fresh money to put into the farm only it all kept to make a solicitor of Bob and a chemist of you. During _Jack's_ visit to the farm a fire breaks out and several buildings on the place are destroyed. Much to the horror of the well-bred _Jack_, he learns that his father himself had lit the match in order to get "compensation." He sternly upbraids the old farmer. _Jack._ Didn't you see yourself how dishonest it was? _Timothy._ Maybe I did, but I saw something more, and that was that I was on the way to being put out of the farm. _Jack_ is outraged; he threatens to inform on his own people and offers to stay on the farm to help with the work. But two weeks' experience in the field beneath the burning sun is more than delicate _Jack_ can stand. He suffers fainting spells, and is in the end prevailed upon by his wife to leave. _Mary_, old _Hurley's_ daughter, also returns to the farm for rest and quiet. But she finds no peace there, for the city is too much in her blood. There is, moreover, another lure she cannot escape.