"Do you mean that they are going to treat him as they did Mr. Bence Jones?" says Miss Penelope, indignantly.
"Troth, I believe so, ma'am."
"Will Mr. Brian have to milk the cows?" says Terence, at which astounding thought both he and Kit break into merry laughter until checked by Monica's reproachful gaze. How can they laugh when Brian may be starving?
"Faix, it's awful, miss; an' the ould man to be wantin' for things now,—he that allus kep' a fine table, to spake truth of him, and liked his bit an' sup amazin', small blame to him. I'm thinkin' 'tis hungry enough he'll be now for the future, the crathur! Oh, wirra! wirra!" says Timothy, sympathetically, as he shambles towards the door.
When he is gone, Miss Priscilla turns upon Terence and Kit.
"I must say, I think your mirth at such a time most unseemly," she says. "I am glad Monica takes no part in it. Terence, did you go up to the widow Driscoll with my message this morning?"
"Yes, aunt."
She had evidently expected him to say "no," because her tone is considerably mollified when she speaks again.
"Was she pleased, do you think?"
"Yes, aunt."