ime, he had that examination of Mrs. Jones to
arrange and conduct.

The breakfast was again very sad. The girls suggested to their
brother that he and Mr. Prendergast should sit together by themselves
in a small breakfast parlour, but to this he would not assent.
Nothing could be more difficult or embarrassing than a conversation
between himself and that gentleman, and he moreover was unwilling to
let it be thought in the household that affairs were going utterly
wrong in the family. On this matter he need hardly have disturbed
himself, for the household was fully convinced that things were
going very wrong. Maid-servants and men-servants can read the
meaning of heavy brows and sad faces, of long meetings and whispered
consultations, as well as their betters. The two girls, therefore,
and Aunt Letty, appeared at the breakfast-table, but it was as though
so many ghosts had assembled round the urn.

Immediately after breakfast, Mr. Prendergast applied to Aunt Letty.
"Miss Fitzgerald," said he, "I think you have an old servant of the
name of Jones living here."

"Yes, sure," said Aunt Letty. "She was living with my sister-in-law
before her marriage."

"Exactly,--and ever since too, I believe," said Mr. Prendergast,
with a lawyer's instinctive desire to divert suspicion from the true
point.

"Oh yes, always; Mrs. Jones is quite one of ourselves."

"Then would you do me the favour to beg Mrs. Jones to oblige me with
her company for half an hour or so. There is an excellent fire in my
room, and perhaps Mrs. Jones would not object to step there."

Aunt Letty promised that Mrs. Jones should be sent, merely suggesting
the breakfast-parlour, instead of the bed-room; and to the
breakfast-parlour Mr. Prendergast at once betook himself. "What can
she know about the London property, or about the Irish property?"
thought Aunt Letty, to herself; and then it occurred to her that,
perhaps, all these troubles arose from some source altogether
distinct from the property.

In about a quarter of an hour, a knock came to the breakfast-parlour
door, and Mrs. Jones, having been duly summoned, entered the room
with a very clean cap and apron, and with a very low curtsey. "Good
morning, Mrs. Jones," said Mr. Prendergast; "pray take a seat;" and
he pointed to an arm-chair that was comfortably placed near the fire,
on the further side of the hearth-rug. Mrs. Jones sat herself down,
crossed her hands on her lap, and looked the very person