"I don't know, your reverence. They were saying yesterday that this should be a holiday."
"They knew all this work was waiting, and that the manager was complaining."
"They did, indeed, your reverence. I told them so, and one said: 'Let them wait.' They're grumbling about the wages, though they were never better off in their lives before."
"Are they all of the same mind in that matter?"
"Oh, no, your reverence. Nine of the girls are anxious, and are really grateful for the work; but there are three doxies, who have bachelors, if you please, and they think themselves quite above the work."
"I see. I think I know them. They won't come here again. Can you supply their places?"
"Easy enough, your reverence, but—"
"Never mind. I'll do that myself."
He did. He dismissed the recalcitrants promptly; but when it became a question of obtaining substitutes, it was not so easy.
The rest of the girls went to work the following day; but as they passed through the village in the evening on the way home, they were hooted unmercifully, called "staggeens," "thraitors," "informers," and, as a result, remained at home, and sent in their resignation to Father Letheby. Not that the entire body of villagers sympathized with this disgraceful conduct; but the powers of evil are more aggressive than the agents of goodness; and the children of darkness are wiser in their generation than the children of light. I suppose it is the same the wide world over; but, of a surety, in Ireland one rebel makes a thousand. No one thinks himself called upon to be a martyr or witness to the right. Of course, Father Letheby had sympathizers; but they limited their sympathy to kindly criticism:—