didn't believe it till now. Who has turned the boy's weak head?
Who has encouraged him to stand there hugging that girl? If it's
you, Dermody, it shall be the worst day's work you ever did in
your life." He turned to me again, before the bailiff could
defend himself. "Do you hear what I say? I tell you to leave
Dermody's girl, and come home with me."

"Yes, papa," I answered. "But I must go back to Mary, if you
please, after I have been with you."

Angry as he was, my father was positively staggered by my
audacity.

"You young idiot, your insolence exceeds belief!" he burst out.
"I tell you this: you will never darken these doors again! You
have been taught to disobey me here. You have had things put into
your head, here, which no boy of your age ought to know--I'll say
more, which no decent people would have let you know."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Dermody interposed, very respectfully
and very firmly at the same time. "There are many things which a
master in a hot temper is privileged to say to the man who serves
him. But you have gone beyond your privilege. You have shamed me,
sir, in the presence of my mother, in the hearing of my child--"

My father checked him there.

"You may spare the rest of it," he said. "We are master and
servant no longer. When my son came hanging about your cottage,
and playing at sweethearts with your girl there, your duty was to
close the door on him. You have failed in your duty. I trust you
no longer. Take a month's notice, Dermody. You leave my service."

The bailiff steadily met my father on his ground. He was no
longer the easy, sweet-tempered, modest man who was the man of my
remembrance.

"I beg to decline taking your month's notice, sir," he answered.
"You shall have no opportunity of repeating what you have just
said to me. I will send in my accounts to-night. And I will leave
your service to-morrow."

"We agree for once," retorted my father. "The sooner you go, the
better."

He stepped across the room and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Listen to me," he said, making a last effort to control himself.
"I don't want to quarrel with you before a discarded servant.
There must be an end to this nonsense. Leave these people to pack
up and go, and come back to the house with me."

His heavy hand, pressing on my shoulder, seemed to press the
spirit of resistance out of me. I so far gave way as to try to
melt him by entreaties.

"Oh, papa! papa!" I cried. "Don't part me from Mary! See how
pretty and good she is! She has made me a flag for my boat. Let
me come here and see her sometimes. I can't live without her"

I could say no more. My poor little Mary burst out crying. Her
tears and my entreaties were alike wasted on my father.

"Take your choice," he said, "between coming away of your own
accord, or obliging me to take you away by force. I mean to part
you and Dermody's girl."

"Neither you nor any man can part them," interposed a voice,
speaking behind us. "Rid your mind of that notion, master, before
it is too late."

My father looked round quickly, and discovere d Dame Dermody
facing him in the full light of the window. She had stepped back,
at the outset of the dispute, into the corner behind the
fireplace. There she had remained, biding her time to speak,
until my father's last threat brought her out of her place of
retirement.

They looked at each other for a moment. My father seemed to think
it beneath his dignity to answer her. He went on with what he had
to say to me.

"I shall count three slowly," he resumed. "Before I get to the
last number, make up your mind to do what I tell you, or submit
to the disgrace of being taken away by force."

"Take him where you may," said Dame Dermody, "he will still be on
his way to his marriage with my grandchild."

"And where shall I be, if you please?" asked my father, stung
into speaking to her this time.

The answer followed instantly in these startling words:

"_You_ will be on your way to your ruin and your death."

My father turned his back on the prophetess with a smile of
contempt.

"One!" he said, beginning to count.


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