ularly dejected frame
of mind, he found Dr. Marsh waiting for him.

"Well?" he said. "A canard, I suppose?"

Father Healy made no reply.

"You don't mean to tell me----," cried the doctor.

"I believe he is a wronged man, but he refuses to speak."

"I must speak to him myself. Don't wait for me, Father. Just get away
home, and pray that a miracle may put this straight."

Denis Quirk was still sitting as the priest had left him when Dr. Marsh
burst in upon him, and plumped down on the chair that had been vacated
by Father Healy.

"See here, Quirk," he began, without further explanation, "I am a man of
the world, and I know the utmost capabilities of human wickedness. I
don't believe you are a real libertine. But I know Grey Town. Many a dog
has been hanged here because of his bad name. You must disprove this."

"No, doctor. If you knew my story you would recognise the strength of my
position. I must trust to time to put things straight."

"They will start another paper and fight you."

"Let them. That is what I want, a good fight," replied Denis. "Someone
whom I can hit--hard!"

"And what if I withdraw my capital?"

"You won't do that, doctor," replied Denis, with a quiet smile. "I know
you."

"Well, Quirk, I'll tell you what I think of you--a clever, Quixotic
fool. But I will stand by you to the end. I am a sort of Ishmaelite;
nothing pleases me better than an exchange of hard blows."

The two men shook hands in silence, and Dr. Marsh went out to find
Father Healy waiting for him.

"We are a pair of idiots, you and I," said the doctor. "We ought to
unite in hooting Denis Quirk out of Grey Town, but we shall fight for
him to the finish. He is too ugly to be hopelessly wicked," he added,
after a pause.

"Then you and I are not altogether bad," laughed the priest.

They walked in silence to the doctor's gate.

"Won't you come in?" he asked, as they paused to say good-bye.

"No, thank you. It is a strange thing I should have received the
Bishop's letter to-day," said Father Healy, reflectively.

Dr. Marsh could not grasp the meaning of this remark, so he refrained
from comment on it.

"The Bishop wishes me to take a six months' holiday," continued the
priest.

"You have earned it by hard work. A most reasonable suggestion. Take a
rest before you die suddenly," said the doctor.

"And he suggests that I return to the old home in County Cork," added
Father Healy.

"Naturally. Where would you go