been a good-tempered man, I'd have burned the baby along with
it. She spent the whole of four nights crying, and that was before she
got the whooping-cough, so there was no excuse for her."

"It was hunger ailed her then," said the doctor.

"It was," said Meldon. "I found that out afterwards, for she stopped
crying as soon as ever she got enough to eat. If I'd allowed her to be
brought up on the principles laid down in that book her temper would have
been ruined for life, and she'd have been a nuisance to every one she
came across."

"I wouldn't wonder," said Doyle, "but it might be according to that book
that Simpkins was reared. It would be hard to account for the kind of
man he is any other way."

"It might be that," said the doctor; "but I'd say myself it's more likely
to be the want of beating when he was young that's the matter with him."

"Will you stay and have a bit of dinner now you're here, Mr. Meldon?"
said Doyle. "I wouldn't like your temper would be destroyed for the want
of what I'd be glad to give you."

Meldon looked at his watch.

"Thank you," he said, "I will. It's one o'clock, and Sabina ought to
have the bacon ready by now if she started cooking it the time I told
her."

CHAPTER VII.

Ballymoy House, save for the occasional presence of a fishing tenant,
has been unoccupied for years. Two men are employed to keep the
grounds tidy, and Mr. Simpkins does his best to see that the work is
done. But in spite of his exertions the place is in a condition of
disorder. There is long grass where there ought to be trim lawns; wild
growths of brambles in nooks originally dedicated to rose gardening;
and a general air of exuberance about the trees and shrubs. Miss King
found all this very charming. She took a walk round the pleasure
grounds on the evening of her arrival, and felt that she had happened
upon the Irish demesne of her dreams--a region of spacious
dilapidation, exquisite natural beauty, romantic possibilities, and an
inexhaustible supply of local colour; a place very different indeed
from the trim Thames-side villas in which she generally spent her
summer holidays. Her maid unpacked a large box of requisites for the
country life supplied by the Stores, and came, at the bottom of it,
upon a very gay hammock made of green and scarlet strings. Miss King
was delighted with its appearance, and the promise it gave of luxurious
rest. After breakfast next morning she summoned th