Mr. Jones usually took his son with him when he walked about among the meadows, and he again expressed his wishes to him as though Frank hereafter were to have the management of everything. But on one occasion, towards the latter half of the afternoon, he went alone. There were different wooden barriers, having sluice gates passing between them, over which he would walk, and at present there were sheep on the upper meadows, on which the luxuriant grass had begun to grow in the early summer. He was looking at his sheep now, and thinking to himself that he could find a market for them in spite of all that the boycotters could do to prevent him. But in one corner, where the meadows ceased, and Pat Carroll's land began, he met an old man whom he had known well in former years, named Con Heffernan. It was absolutely the case that he, the landlord, did not at the present moment know who occupied Pat Carroll's land, though he did know that he had received no rent for the last three years. And he knew also that Con Heffernan was a friend of Carroll's, or, as he believed, a distant cousin. And he knew also that Con was supposed to have been one of those who had assisted at the destruction of the sluice gates.
"Well, Con; how are you?" he said.
"Why thin, yer honour, I'm only puirly. It's bad times as is on us now, indeed and indeed."
"Whose fault is that?" said the squire.
"Not yer honour's. I will allys say that for your honour. You never did nothing to none of us."
"You had land on the estate till some twelve months since, and then you were evicted for five gales of rent."
"That's thrue, too, yer honour."
"You ought to be a rich man now, seeing that you have got two-and-a-half years' rent in your pocket, and I ought to be poor, seeing that I've got none of it."
"Is it puir for yer honour, and is it rich for the like of me?"
"What have you done with the money, Con,—the five gales of rent?"