uise.

"To-morrow," he said, "I shall stroll round and see my old friends.
I'm bound to do that; and, in point of fact, I want to. It's three
years since I left, and I'm longing for a look at Doyle and the rest of
them. The next day, if the weather is any way moderate, we can go
sailing. I suppose Ballymoy isn't much changed. I shall find every
one exactly as I left them. Things don't alter much in places like
this where you take life easy."

"The place is changed," said Major Kent; "changed for the worse. You'd
hardly know it."

"Nothing has happened to Doyle, I hope. I'd be sorry if poor Doyle had
taken to drink, or gone bankrupt, or got married, or anything of that
sort. I always liked Doyle."

"Doyle," said the Major sadly, "is suffering like everybody else."

"New priest?"

"No. Father Morony's alive still."

"They're not piling on the rates under the pretence of getting a water
supply, or running schemes of technical education, or giving
scholarships in the new university, are they? Doyle would have more
sense than to allow them to break out into any reckless waste of public
money."

"No."

"Then what's the matter with you? I've noticed that you're looking
pretty glum ever since I arrived. Let's have the trouble, whatever it
is. I have a fortnight before me, and I need scarcely say, Major, that
if I can set things right in the place, I don't mind sacrificing my
holiday in the least. I'm quite prepared to turn to and straighten out
any tangle that may have arisen since I left."

"I'm sure you'd do your best, J. J."--the Major dropped naturally into
his old way of addressing his friend by his initials--"but I don't
think you can help us this time."

Major Kent sighed heavily and struck a match. His pipe had gone out.

"I certainly can't," said Meldon, "if you won't tell me what it is that
troubles you."

"It's that damned Simpkins," said the Major.

"Simpkins may or may not be damned hereafter," said Meldon. "I offer
no opinion on that point until I hear who he is and what he's done. He
can't be damned yet, assuming him to be still alive. That's an
elementary theological truth which you ought to know; and, in fact,
must know. It will be a great deal more satisfactory to me if you use
language accurately. Say that 'damnable Simpkins' if you're quite sure
he deserves it; but don't call him damned until he is."

"He does deserve it."

"If he does," said Meldon--"I'm not, of cou