And the old man was very sad, for when James was gone he would have no one, and he did not feel he would be able to work the farm for many years longer. He and James used to sit smoking on either side of the fireplace, and Pat Phelan knew that James was thinking of America all the while. One evening, as they were sitting like this, the door was opened suddenly. "Peter!" said James. And he jumped up from the fire to welcome his brother. "It is good for sore eyes to see the sight of you again," said Pat Phelan. "Well, tell us the news. If we had known you were coming we would have sent the cart to meet you." As Peter did not answer, they began to think that something must have happened. Perhaps Peter was not going to become a priest after all, and would stay at home with his father to learn to work the farm. "You see, I did not know myself until yesterday. It was only yesterday that--" "So you are not going to be a priest? We are glad to hear that, Peter." "How is that?" He had thought over what he should say, and without waiting to hear why they were glad, he told them the professor, who overlooked his essays, had refused to recognize their merits--he had condemned the best things in them; and Peter said it was extraordinary that such a man should be appointed to such a place. Then he told that the Church afforded little chances for the talents of young men unless they had a great deal of influence. And they sat listening to him, hearing how the college might be reformed. He had a gentle, winning way of talking, and his father and brother forgot their own misfortunes thinking how they might help him. "Well, Peter, you have come back none too soon." "And how is that? What have you been doing since I went away? You all wanted to hear about Maynooth." "Of course we did, my boy. Tell him, James." "Oh! it is nothing particular," said James. "It is only this, Peter--I am going to America." "And who will work the farm?" "Well, Peter, we were thinking that you might work it yourself." "I work the farm! Going to America, James! But what about Catherine?" "That's what I'm coming to, Peter. She has gone into a convent. And that's what's happened since you went away. I can't stop here, Peter--I will never do a hand's turn in Ireland--and father is getting too old to go to the fairs. That's what we were thinking when you came in." There was a faint tremble in his voice, and Peter saw how heart-sick his brother was. "I will do my best, James." "I knew you would." "Yes, I will," said Peter; and he sat down by the fire. And his father said:-- "You are not smoking, Peter." "No," he said; "I've given up smoking." "Will you drink something?" said James. "We have got a drain of whiskey in the house." "No, I have had to give up spirits. It doesn't agree with me. And I don't take tea in the morning. Have you got any cocoa in the house?" It was not the cocoa he liked, but he said he would be able to manage. IV