s day.

First he said he wouldn't, then he said he couldn't, but I said what was
not poison for the patient could not hurt the physician; and in the end
he had to swallow the dose, making far more fuss over its nasty taste
than I did. But I noted that he at once wrote me a new prescription,
which was as sweet as any advertised syrup, and further, that he
arranged his next visit should be just after I finished the bottle.

However, that is years and years after the time of which I am treating.

Yet I am tempted to anticipate, because the mention of Edenburn earlier
in this chapter suggests a quaint individual about whom a few
observations may be made.

Bill Hogan was our factotum. He was stable-boy, steward, ladies'-maid,
and professional busybody, as well as a bit of a character, though he
possessed none worth mentioning.

When we were packing up to leave Edenburn, my wife was watching him fill
two casks, one with home-made jam, the other with china.

Called away to luncheon, she found on her return both casks securely
nailed down.

'Oh, you should not have done that, Bill,' she said, 'for now we shan't
know which contains which.'

'I thought of that, ma'am,' replies Bill, 'so I have written S for
chiney on the one, and G for jam on the other.'

Bill's orthography was obviously original.

So was the drive he took with a certain cheery guest of mine one Sabbath
morning.

The said guest desired more refreshment than he was likely to get at
that early hour at Edenburn, so he drove into Tralee, ostensibly to
church, and told Bill to have the car round at the club at one.

'Well,' narrated Bill afterwards, 'out came the Captain from the club,
having a few drinks taken, and up he got on the car with my help, but at
the corner of Denny Street he pulled up at the whisky store, and said we
must drink the luck of the road. Well we drank the luck at every house
on the way out of the town, and presently in the road down came the
mare, pitching the Captain over the hedge, and marking her own knees, as
well as breaking the shaft. At last we all got home somehow, and there
in the yard was the master, looking us all three up and down as though
he were going to commit us all from the Bench. Then a twinkle came into
his eye, and he said as mild as a dove to the Captain, "I see by the
look of her knees you've been taking the mare to say her prayers."'

CHAPTER IX

THE HARENC ESTATE

So large a part has the purch