“I call this the finest place in Ireland, Dan!” said Captain Bodkin, as he rode beside Nelligan's car, halting every now and then to look around him. “There's everything can make a demesne beautiful,—wood, water, and mountain!”
“And, better than all, a fine system of farming,” broke in Nelligan. “That's the best field of 'swedes' I ever beheld!”
“And to think that a man would leave this to go live abroad in a dirty town in France!” exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, from the opposite side of the car. “That's perverseness indeed!”
“Them there is all Swiss cows!” said Mr. Clinch, in an humble tone.
“Not one of them, Clinch! they're Alderneys. The Swiss farm, as they call it, is all on the other side, with the ornamented cottage.”
“Dear! dear! there was no end to their waste and extravagance!” muttered Mrs. Nelligan.
“Wait till you see the house, ma'am, and you 'll say so, indeed,” said the Captain.
“I don't think we 're likely!” observed Nelligan, dryly.
“Why so?”
“Just that Scanlan told Father Mather the auction would be held in the stables; for as there was none of the furniture to be sold, the house would n't be opened.”