Before Helen could open her lips, Katie, the irrepressible, had begun to relate her recent experiences, as volubly as if she herself had been a passenger by the Irish mail; not to mention the Terryscreen post-car!
But long ere her recital had come to an end, her parent's thoughts were miles away—presumably in the clouds. At length the sudden cessation of the narrative, recalled him to the present once more, and speaking very deliberately, he said,—
"You must take us as you find us, niece. We live far beyond any sordid, worldly circle, enjoying simple, domestic retirement, and a purely rural life. Our wealth is that of the mind. In mundane substance we are poor, but at any rate we can offer you one thing, without stint—accept a welcome." And with a wave of his hand, implying that he had endowed Helen with some priceless treasure, and a bow signifying that the interview was at an end, Mr. Sheridan glided noiselessly away, leaving, as was his invariable wont, the door wide open behind him.
CHAPTER XXXII.
BARRY'S GUESS.
"O many a shaft at random sent,
Finds mark the archer little meant."—Scott.
The following morning Helen was formally conducted round the premises by her cousins. They explored the tangled shrubbery, the garden, and the yard; the latter was empty—save for a clutch of chickens, and a flock of voracious ducks,—and at least half the offices were minus roofs and windows.
"The whole place was tumbling down," explained Dido; "and as the Padré could do nothing, Darby Chute said he might just as well make the best of a bad job, and he took off the doors and rafters for fire-wood."
"Yes, and Barry was raging," supplemented Katie. "Barry is papa's heir.—He is our cousin, and lives a mile away on the Terryscreen road. He says there won't be a stick or a stone left together before long. He often comes over here. He declares the place is going to rack and ruin."