“It is a royal palace,—no less,” said Nelligan, at last; “and that's exactly what no country gentleman wants. Sure we know well there's no fortune equal to such a residence. To keep up that house, as it ought to be, a man should have thirty thousand a year.”
“Give me fifteen, Dan, and you'll see if I don't make it comfortable,”, said Bodkin.
“What's this barrier here,—can't we go any further?” exclaimed Nelligan, as he perceived a strong paling across the avenue.
“We 're to go round by the stables, it seems,” said Bodkin; “the hall entrance is not to be invaded by such vulgar visitors. This is our road, here.”
“Well, if I ever!” exclaimed Mrs. Clinch, whose feelings really overpowered utterance.
“I don't see any great hardship in this after all, ma'am,” said Nelligan; “for we know if the family were at home we couldn't even be here. Drive on, Tim.”
A short circuit through a very thickly wooded tract brought them at length to a large and massive gateway, over which the Martins' arms were sculptured in stone; passing through which they entered a great courtyard, three sides of which were occupied by stables, the fourth presenting a range of coach-houses filled with carriages of every description.
A large tent was erected in the midst of the court for the convenience of the sale, in front of which were pens for the cattle, and a space railed off, wherein the horses were to be viewed and examined.
“This is all mighty well arranged,” said Bodkin, as he gave his horse to a groom, who, in the undress livery of Cro' Martin, came respectfully to his aid as he got down.
“The sale will begin in about an hour, sir,” said the man, in answer to a question. “Mr. Scanlan is now in the house with Mr. Gibbs, the auctioneer.”