"Listen to me, Phinias," said Fergus, "I want your help in this matter."
"To be sure, to be sartin sure, yer honour."
"Well, it's like this," said Fergus. "Don't you let it out to your wife or your neighbours. Keep it close within your breast."
"I will that, yer honour. I am wonderful at kapin' a sacret."
"Well, this is the state of things," said Fergus. "My father is an old man and full of years, and Madam, bless her heart, is not too young, and they've both taken a fancy to the little push-keen. We want to keep her, Phinias."
"Oh, Lord, sir; yer honour I mane, whatever for?"
"For the sake of my father," said Fergus. "He's gone fair mad over the child, and if John Mansfield has got a grain of human nature in him, he won't part the child from her own true grandfather. I'm going to see him to-night, but not a word is to be mentioned to little miss, and I want you to give me his address, Phinias Maloney."
"Well, to be sure, I can do that fine," said Phinias. "Didn't he give me his kyard when he put the bit colleen into my care, and didn't he look nigh to weepin'. He's an elegant man, yer honour, and he loves the little colleen like anythin'. There's nothin' on earth he wouldn't do for the pretty dear, but I can see that he's mortal afraid of 'herself'—that's Miss Priscilla that was. His address is Handley Vicarage, Balderstown, near Earlminster. You won't see much of the old farmer in the Rev. John Mansfield, yer honour. To look at, he's a gintleman as good as yourself and with 'the spiritual eye.'"
"Whatever do you mean by that, Phinias?"
"Ah, thin," exclaimed Phinias, "it's given but to a rare few, and they lives—well, somewhere above the stars I'm thinking—close to the golden gates, by the same token. There's no difference between 'The's' and Priests and Marquises and Counts where he has fixed his gaze, yer honour. He's a howly man, that's what he be and 'the spiritual eye' in him is downright wonderful."