“Oh, Nugent,” I said, “was Moll Hourihane there?”
“No, I hear she has gone off her head altogether, and just sits by the fire and says ‘Gibber’ all the time—or words to that effect.”
“Nonsense!”
“Well, that is what your friend Tom told me. I was quite glad to hear that she was turning into a good conventional idiot, after all.”
“Was old Brian there?”
“Yes; he had the cheek to ask me if I knew who was to get the property. He is as ill-conditioned an old ruffian as I ever saw. I told him that till the will was read, no one knew anything about it.”
“I hope your father went up to the house to hear it,” I said, with an uneasy recollection of my uncle’s threat to disinherit Willy in my favour.
“I have not the least doubt he did—in fact, I believe McCarthy asked him to do so; but as I knew it could be of no special interest to any one but Willy, I came right on here. It seemed to me as if I would prefer it.”
Miss Mimi’s gardening occupied her till nearly tea time; at least it was not till then that we heard her voice reverberating in the hall.
“See now, Joanna, be sure and put plenty of butter on the toast, and don’t wet the tea till I ring the bell. The mistress and Miss Bessie will be home from Moycullen soon, and”—in a lower voice—“there’s Miss Sarsfield and Mr. O’Neill in the drawing-room.”