four
pounds for doin' next to nothin'. An' to see the dhress an' the shtyle
o' thim fine girls! Why, yez cudn't tell them from their own
misthresses. What wud yez be doin' in New York, wid yer clothes thrun on
yez be a pitchfork, an' lukkin' as if they were made in the ark? But if
ye wor as smart as the lady that waits on the Queen, not wan fut will ye
set in New York if Mrs. Dillon says no. Yez may go to Hartford or
Newark, or some other little place, an' yez'll be mighty lucky if ye're
not sint sthraight on to quarantine wid the smallpox patients an' the
Turks."

The cook gave a gasp, and Judy saw that she had won the day. One more
struggle, however, remained before her triumph was complete. The
housekeeper and the butler formed an alliance against her, and refused
to be awed by the stories of Mrs. Dillon's power and greatness; but as
became their station their opposition was not expressed in mere
language. They did not condescend to bandy words with inferiors. The
butler fought his battle with Judy by simply tilting his nose toward the
sky on meeting her. Judy thereupon tilted her nose in the same fashion,
so that the servants' hall was convulsed at the sight, and the butler
had to surrender or lose his dignity. The housekeeper carried on the
battle by an attempt to stare Judy out of countenance with a formidable
eye; and the greatest staring-match on the part of rival servants in
Castle Moyna took place between the representative of the Skibbereens
and the maid of New York. The former may have thought her eye as good as
that of the basilisk, but found the eye of Miss Haskell much harder.

The housekeeper one day met Judy descending the back stairs. She fixed
her eyes upon her with the clear design of transfixing and paralyzing
this brazen American. Judy folded her arms and turned her glance upon
her foe. The nearest onlookers held their breaths. Overcome by the calm
majesty of Judy's iron glance, which pressed against her face like a
spear, the housekeeper smiled scornfully and began to ascend the stairs
with scornful air. Judy stood on the last step and turned her neck round
and her eyes upward until she resembled the Gorgon. She had the
advantage of the housekeeper, who in mounting the stairs had to watch
her steps; but in any event the latter was foredoomed to defeat. The
eyes that had not blinked before Anne Dillon, or the Senator, or Mayor
Livingstone, or John Everard, or the Countess of Skibbereen, or the
g