“Why doesn’t the young man try to do something?”
“It’s difficult to stir without money. I don’t suppose the fellow has the price of a railway ticket, or a second coat to his back. In our soft relaxing climate it is so easy to let indolence grow on you—and to take things as they come.”
“Dermot is a wonderful horseman,” supplemented Lady Donnelly. “Men are only too glad to give him mounts in the hunting season; he rides and breaks the maddest-looking animals, and I believe he is a fine shot too, but these accomplishments don’t put a penny in his pocket. He has no companions of his own class—all the young men are out in the world.”
“And the young women?” suggested Mrs. de Lisle.
“Oh, none of the girls round here would look at Dermot, except perhaps farmers’ daughters. I’ve heard he has been seen about the lanes with Mitty Flood—such a bold, shameless minx.”
“Well, if young Hegan marries Mitty, he is done!” declared Sir Domnick. “I wish someone would give the poor boy a hand, and help him out of the quagmire; the longer he sticks at home, the deeper he sinks. I’m afraid he has no energy or push, and not a penny to his name—it’s just a wasted life!”
“Does young Hegan come to church?” enquired Mrs. de Lisle, “and does he sit in the second deep box from the front, along with a red-faced female?”
“Yes,” rejoined Lady Donnelly.
“Then he really looks quite presentable, and I believe I saw him at the Meet, riding a crazy chestnut.”
“No doubt,” assented Sir Domnick, “and if Dermot were to break his neck—under the circumstances, it would be the best thing that could happen to him!”