SAGE ADVICE
‘So then you’re in a hobble with your aunt,’ said Mr. Kearney, as he believed he had summed up the meaning of a very blundering explanation by Gorman O’Shea; ‘isn’t that it?’
‘Yes, sir; I suppose it comes to that.’
‘The old story, I’ve no doubt, if we only knew it—as old as the Patriarchs: the young ones go into debt, and think it very hard that the elders dislike the paying it.’
‘No, no; I have no debts—at least, none to speak of.’
‘It’s a woman, then? Have you gone and married some good-looking girl, with no fortune and less family? Who is she?’
‘Not even that, sir,’ said he, half impatient at seeing how little attention had been bestowed on his narrative.
‘‘Tis bad enough, no doubt,’ continued the old man, still in pursuit of his own reflections; ‘not but there’s scores of things worse; for if a man is a good fellow at heart, he’ll treat the woman all the better for what she has cost him. That is one of the good sides of selfishness; and when you have lived as long as me, Gorman, you’ll find out how often there’s something good to be squeezed out of a bad quality, just as though it were a bit of our nature that was depraved, but not gone to the devil entirely.’
‘There is no woman in the case here, sir,’ said O’Shea bluntly, for these speculations only irritated him.
‘Ho, ho! I have it, then,’ cried the old man. ‘You’ve been burning your fingers with rebellion. It’s the Fenians have got a hold of you.’