ome here and brood
over every insult that would be offered to the usurer's daughter by
those beggarly spendthrifts that are at liberty by his bounty, he 'd
earn his name of the Grinder by crushing them to the dust!"

The vehemence of his utterance had gone on increasing as he spoke, till
at the end the last words were given with almost a scream of passion.

"I must say, Fagan," replied my father, calmly, "that you form a very
humble, I trust a very unfair, estimate of the habits of my house, not
to say of my own feelings. However, we'll not dispute the matter. Good
evening to you."

"Good evening, sir; I 'm sorry I was so warm; I hope I have said nothing
that could offend you."

"Not when you did n't mean offence, believe me, Fagan. I repeat my
hope that the friends and acquaintances with whom I live are not the
underbred and ill-mannered class you think them; beyond that I have
nothing to say. Good evening."

Probably no amount of discussion and argument on the subject could so
palpably have convinced Fagan of the vast superiority of a man of good
manners over one of inferior breeding as did the calm and gentleman-like
quietude of my father's bearing, in contradistinction to his own
passionate outbreak.

"One moment, sir,--one moment," cried he, laying his hand on my father's
arm; "you really believe that one humbly born as Polly, the daughter of
a man in my condition, would be received amongst the high and titled of
Dublin without a scornful allusion to whence she came,--without a sneer
at her rank in life?"

"If I thought anything else, Fagan, I should be dishonored in making
this request of you."

"She shall go, sir,--she shall go," cried Fagan.

"Thanks for the confidence, Fagan; I know you 'd rather trust me with
half your fortune without a scratch of my pen in return."

Fagan turned away his head; but a motion of his hand across his eyes
showed how he felt the speech.

To obviate the awkwardness of the moment, my father entered upon the
details of the journey, for which it was arranged that Fagan was to send
his daughter to Bray, where a carriage from Castle Carew would be in
waiting to convey her the remainder of the way. These points being
settled, my father once again thanked him for his compliance, and
departed.

I should be only mystifying my reader most unjustifiably should I affect
any secrecy as to my father's reasons for this singular invitation;
for although the gossipry of the day could