long waited for
some chance to secure an advantage over his thriftless neighbor, and
now that it had come he drove it home with all the solemnity and
earnestness that he could command. Bennet listened with eyes staring
at the earth, and the veins throbbing in his bared neck, until the talk
had reached a point where he must promise.

"Father Doyle," he began, thickly, "I have been a sad failure since the
day ye married me to Mary O'Neil, and Nancy McVeigh's tavern has been a
curse to me an' mine; but, if ye will do this fer me, I'll swear never
to touch a drop again."

"Say nothing against Mistress McVeigh. You owe her more than you
think," Father Doyle interjected sharply.

"Perhaps," admitted Bennet, grudgingly.

"It's a compact, then," the priest observed, smiling away the wrinkles
of severity, and they clasped hands over it.

That afternoon a covered rig passed by the tavern while the hostess was
serving the wants of a few who had stepped in.

"It's Jim Bennet, takin' his wife to the hospital. Poor thing, she'll
find a deal more comfort there than in her own home!" Nancy explained,
in answer to the exclamations of curiosity.

"It's a wonder he doesn't stop for a drink," one of the bystanders
remarked. But Nancy did not heed it, for she was thinking of two
children playing in the road when she had a husband to shoulder the
heavier duties of life.

CHAPTER II.

_THE ANTAGONISM OF MISS PIPER._

Miss Sophia Piper had passed that period of life popularly known on the
Monk Road as the matrimonial age. She had reached that second stage of
unwed womanhood when interest in material things supersedes that of
sentiment. She no longer sighed as she gazed down the stretch of walk,
lined with rose hedge, that led from the verandah of her Cousin James'
home to the Monk Road gateway, for there was no one in the wide world
who might desire to catch her waiting on the step. Bachelors,
especially young ones, were a silly set to her, useful only to girls
who had time to waste on them. Her time was too precious, and she
prided herself somewhat on the fact.

True, she had had her day. She well remembered that, and even boasted
of it. Off-hand she could name a half-dozen men who once would have
accepted the custody of her heart with alacrity, but she was too
discerning. The Piper standard on the feminine side of the family was
raised high, and he must be an immortal, indeed, who climbed to its
dizzy height.