"All the boys in the village will be there to-night," said Ned. "You had better come with us." And pretending he wanted to get a coal of fire to light his pipe, Ned whispered to Kate as he passed her, "Pat Connex will be there." She looked at the striped sunshade she has brought back from the dressmaker's--she had once been apprenticed to a dressmaker--but Ned said that a storm was blowing and she had better leave the sunshade behind. The rain beat in their faces and the wind came sweeping down the mountain and made them stagger. Sometimes the road went straight on, sometimes it turned suddenly and went up-hill. After walking for a mile they came to the school-house. A number of men were waiting outside, and one of the boys told them that the priest had said they were to keep a look out for the lecturer, and Ned said that he had better stay with them, that his lantern would be useful to show her the way. They went into a long, smoky room. The women had collected into one corner, and the priest was walking up and down, his hands thrust into the pockets of his overcoat. Now he stopped in his walk to scold two children who were trying to light a peat fire in a tumbled down grate. "Don't be tired, go on blowing," he said. "You are the laziest child I have seen this long while." Ned came in and blew out his lantern, but the lady he had mistaken for the lecturer was a lady who had come to live in the neighbourhood lately, and the priest said:-- "You must be very much interested in poultry, ma'am, to come out on such a night as this." The lady stood shaking her waterproof. "Now, then, Lizzie, run to your mother and get the lady a chair." And when the child came back with the chair, and the lady was seated by the fire, he said:-- "I'm thinking there will be no lecturer here to-night, and that it would be kind of you if you were to give the lecture yourself. You have read some books about poultry, I am sure?" "Well, a little--but--" "Oh, that doesn't matter," said the priest. "I'm sure the book you have read is full of instruction." He walked up the room towards a group of men and told them they must cease talking, and coming back to the young woman, he said:-- "We shall be much obliged if you will say a few words about poultry. Just say what you have in your mind about the different breeds." The young woman again protested, but the priest said:-- "You will do it very nicely." And he spoke like one who is not accustomed to being disobeyed. "We will give the lecturer five minutes more." "Is there no farmer's wife who could speak," the young lady said in a fluttering voice. "She would know much more than I. I see Biddy M'Hale there. She has done very well with her poultry." "I daresay she has," said the priest, "but the people would pay no attention to her. She is one of themselves. It would be no amusement to them to hear her."