entered St. Mary's Convent.
Jim Rooney never loved another woman, and when, in the following year,
Maurice O'Donnell went to New Orleans to take up a position as the
editor of a newspaper, Jim Rooney said good-bye to friendship as
lastingly as he had to love.

The old father died, and left what wealth he had to be divided between
his two sons. For all the pinching and scraping it was not much; there
seemed something unlucky about the farm, poor, damp, and unkindly as
it was. Jim was a good brother to the young lad growing up. He kept
him at a good school during his boyhood, and nursed his share of the
inheritance more carefully than he did his own. They had the
reputation of being far wealthier than they were, and many a girl
would have been well pleased to make a match with Jim Rooney. But he
turned his back on all social overtures, and by and by he got the name
of being a sour old bachelor, 'a cold-hearted naygur,' going the way
of his father before him. But the rule on the farm was very different,
every one admitted; to his men James Rooney was not only just but
generous.

Presently the young fellow came home from school, gay and
light-hearted. He was a tall young giant, who presently developed a
fine red moustache, and had a rollicking gait well in keeping with his
bold blue eyes. He was soon as popular as James was the reverse, and
his reputation of being 'a good match' made him welcome in many a
house full of daughters.

One day the youth came to his brother with a plan for bettering
himself. He wanted to draw out his share from the farm and to invest
it in a general shop which was for sale in the country town, close
by. Now Jim Rooney had a queer pride in him that made the thought of
the shop very distasteful. The land was quite another thing, and
farming, to his mind, as ennobling an occupation as any under heaven.
But he quite understood that he could not shape the young fellow to
his ways of thinking. He said, gently: 'And why, Patrick, are you bent
on leaving the farm and bettering yourself?'

The young fellow scratched his head awkwardly, and gave one or two
excuses, but finally the truth came out. He had a fancy for little
Janie Hyland, and she had a fancy for him, but there was a richer man
seeking her, and, said the young fellow simply, 'I'm thinking if the
father knew how little came to my share he'd be showing me the door.'

'Does Janie know, Patrick?' asked the elder brother.

'Oh, divil a thin