Test Bank for Macroeconomics Private and Public Choice 15th

Edition Gwartney Stroup Sobel Macpherson 1285453549

9781285453545
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Macroeconomics Chapter 2 A—Some Tools of the Economist

MULTIPLE CHOICE

1. Which of the following sayings best reflects the concept of opportunity cost?
a. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks."
b. "Time is money."
c. "I have a baker's dozen."
d. "There's no business like show business."
ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge MSC: Suggested Quiz

2. If an economy is operating at a point inside the production possibilities curve,

a. its resources are not being used efficiently.
b. the curve will begin to shift inward.
c. the curve will begin to shift outward.
d. This is a trick question because an economy cannot produce at a point inside the curve.
ANS: A PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost
TOP: Production Possibilities Curve KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge
MSC: Suggested Quiz

3. The primary benefit that results when a nation employs its resources in accordance with the
principle of comparative advantage is
a. an expansion in investment resulting from a reallocation of resources away
from consumption.
b. a larger output resulting from a more efficient use of resources.
c. greater equality of income resulting from an increase in the number of workers.
d. an increase in the profitability of business enterprises resulting from an increase
in investment.
ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Gains from trade, specialization and trade
TOP: Trade, Output, and Living Standards KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension
MSC: Suggested Quiz

4. Suppose the price of an airline ticket from Dallas to Boston costs $600. A bus ticket costs $150.
Traveling by plane takes 6 hours compared with 51 hours by bus. Other things constant, an
individual would gain by choosing air travel if, and only if, his time were valued at more than
 a. $6 per hour.
b. $8 per hour.
c. $10 per hour.
d. $15 per hour.
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Moderate NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension MSC: Suggested Quiz

5. With voluntary exchange,

a. both the buyer and seller will be made better off.
b. the buyer will be made better off, while the seller will be made worse off.
 c. the seller will be made better off, while the buyer will be made worse off.
d. both the buyer and the seller will be made worse off.
ANS: A PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Gains from trade, specialization and trade
TOP: Human Ingenuity and the Creation of Wealth KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge
MSC: Suggested Quiz

6. "Now that Terrance paints the broad surfaces and I do the trim work, we can paint a house in three-
fourths the time that it took for each of us to do both." This statement most clearly reflects
a. the importance of secondary effects.
b. the fallacy of composition.
c. the law of comparative advantage.
d. behavior inconsistent with economizing.
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Gains from trade, specialization and trade
TOP: Trade, Output, and Living Standards KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension
MSC: Suggested Quiz

7. Which of the following will most likely occur under a system of clearly defined and enforced
private property rights?
a. Resource owners will fail to conserve vital resources, even if they expect their supply
to be highly limited in the future.
b. Resource owners will ignore the wishes of others, including others who would like to
use the resource that is privately owned.
c. Resource owners will fail to consider the wishes of potential future buyers when
they decide how to employ privately owned resources.
d. Resource owners will gain by discovering and employing their resources in ways that
are highly valued by others.
ANS: D PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: The role of government TOP: The Importance of Property Rights
KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension MSC: Suggested Quiz

8. Three basic decisions must be made by all economies. What are they?
a. how much will be produced, when it will be produced, and how much it will cost
b. what the price of each good will be, who will produce each good, and who will
consume each good
c. what will be produced, how goods will be produced, and for whom goods will
be produced
d. how the opportunity cost principle will be applied, if and how the law of comparative
advantage will be utilized, and whether the production possibilities constraint will apply
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Gains from trade, specialization and trade TOP: Economic Organization
KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge MSC: Suggested Quiz

9. If a firm or a nation desires to maximize its output, each productive assignment should be carried
out by those persons who
a. have the highest opportunity cost.
b. have a comparative advantage in the productive activity.
c. can complete the productive activity most rapidly.
d. least enjoy performing the productive activity.
 ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Moderate NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Gains from trade, specialization and trade
TOP: Trade, Output, and Living Standards KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension
MSC: Suggested Quiz

10. The opportunity cost of an option

a. measures the undesirable aspects of the option.
b. includes only the monetary cost of the option.
c. is the highest-valued alternative that must be given up as the result of choosing the option.
d. is objective, and it will be the same for all individuals.
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge MSC: Suggested Quiz

11. Opportunity cost is defined

a. only in terms of money spent
b. as the value of all alternatives not chosen
c. as the value of the best alternative not chosen
d. as the difference between the benefits from a choice and the benefits from the next
best alternative
e. as the difference between the benefits from a choice and the costs of that choice
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge

12. The opportunity cost of an activity

a. depends on the individual's subjective values and opinions
b. is the same for everyone
c. must be calculated and known before undertaking that activity
d. is irrelevant to decision making
e. is not influenced by time costs
ANS: A PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge

13. The opportunity cost of an action is

a. objective and will be the same for all individuals.
b. a measure of the undesirable aspects involved in the action.
c. applicable only to choices involving material goods like commodities.
d. the highest valued alternative forgone as the result of choosing an option.
ANS: D PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Knowledge

14. Hutch Technology makes computer monitors, which sell for $500 each. What is the opportunity cost
of producing ten monitors?
a. $5,000
b. the other goods that could be produced with the resources that produce the ten monitors
c. the profits that Hutch earns when it sells the ten monitors
d. the profits that Hutch loses if it does not produce the monitors
e. All of the above are correct.
 ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension

15. A ticket to a concert costs $45. You have a ticket and can resell it for $75. Your opportunity cost
of actually attending the concert is
a. $30.
b. $45.
c. $75.
d. $120.
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Moderate NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Application

16. For most students attending state universities, the largest cost component of going to college is
a. the cost of books and supplies.
b. the cost of room and board.
c. tuition.
d. the opportunity cost in terms of forgone current income from the time spent
attending college.
ANS: D PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension

17. Based on the idea of opportunity cost, which of the following students would be most likely to
drop out of college before completing their degree?
a. a senior mathematics major with a solid B average
b. a junior physical therapy student who has just read about the fantastic job offers
available to students with degrees in her area
c. a star college football player in his junior year that just received a $5 million offer from
a professional team
d. a junior economics major who wants to attend graduate school
ANS: C PTS: 1 DIF: Easy NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Comprehension

18. The opportunity cost of building a park in your hometown would be the
a. money cost of constructing the park.
b. highest valued bundle of other goods and services that must be forgone because of
the park construction.
c. necessary increase in tax revenues to finance the construction.
d. amount of time spent in leisure activities in the park once it is constructed.
ANS: B PTS: 1 DIF: Moderate NAT: BUSPROG: Analytic
STA: DISC: Scarcity, tradeoffs, and opportunity cost TOP: What Shall We Give Up?
KEY: Bloom's: Application

19. Recent legislation provides parents with a substantial reduction in their personal income tax liability for
each child that they have. The economic way of thinking indicates that legislation of this type will
a. make it more costly for parents to provide for their children.
b. reduce the value of children to their parents and, therefore, lead to a reduction in the birth
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rooks, and the loud ticking of a brazen-faced grandfather's clock, that
immediately faced the stranger. Suddenly a fresh young voice came
through an open door, so near that Helen gave a little nervous start; a
fresh young voice with an undeniable Irish accent, and this was what it
said,—
"Dido, Dido! do you want to boil the mignonette, and all the unfortunate
flowers?"
Emboldened by this sound, the new arrival rapped loudly on the door
with her knuckles, and the same melodious brogue called out,—
"If that's you, Judy, no eggs to-day!"
"'Deed then, Miss Katie," expostulated a somewhat aged and cracked
organ, "I'm not so sure of that.—We are rather tight in eggs, and you
were talking of a cake, when the young lady comes——"
By this time the young lady had advanced to the threshold and looked in.
She beheld a large, shabby dining-room, with three long windows, heavy
old furniture, and faded hangings; a stout girl with fair curly hair, sitting
with her back to the door, knitting a sock; her slender sister—presumably
that Dido, who was working such destruction among the flowers—was
stooping over a green stand covered with plants, which she was busily
watering, with the contents of a small copper tea-urn; and a little trim old
woman, in a large frilled cap, was in the act of removing the tea things.
Helen's light footfall on the matting was inaudible, and she had ample
time to contemplate the scene, ere the servant, who was just lifting the
tray, laid it down and ejaculated,—
"The Lord presarve us!"
The girl with the tea-urn turned quickly round, and dropping her
impromptu watering-pot, cried,—
"It's Helen, it must be cousin Helen!" running to her, and embracing her.
"You are as welcome as the flowers in May. This is Katie,—I'm Dido.—
We went to meet you in the morning by the twelve o'clock train; how in
the world did you get here?"
All this poured out without stop, or comma, in a rich and rapid brogue.
"I missed the early train and came on by the next. I got a seat on the
post-car, but the horse ran away and upset us, so I preferred to walk to
the end of my journey. I told the man, Larry ——, Larry ——"
"Larry Flood, Miss," prompted the old woman eagerly. "A little ugly
sleveen of a fellow—with a lip on him, would trip a goat!"
"Now, Biddy, how can you be so spiteful," remonstrated Katie, with a
laugh, "and all just because he wants to marry Sally."
"That's the name—Larry Flood," continued Helen. "I told him I would
walk, and he left my bag at the—the gate."
"Oh! so you came by the old avenue! and a nice way Larry treated you!
Just wait till I see him," said Dido. "How long were you at the door,
Helen?"
"About five minutes."
"And why on earth did you not come in?"
"I was looking for the bell or the knocker," she answered rather
diffidently.
"And you might have been looking for a week, my dear! They are
conspicuous by their absence. We don't stand on ceremony here; you
either hammer with a stone—there is one left on the steps for that
express purpose, only, of course, you never guessed its use—or you
dispense with the stone, and walk in—the door stands open all day long,
—precisely as you see it."
"But, of course, you shut it after dark?"
"Yes, in a fashion; we put a chair against it just to keep the sheep from
coming in! The lock is broken—it was taken off weeks ago by Micky the
smith, and he has never brought it back yet. Now, I see you are horrified,
Helen!—but this is not London—there are no thieves or housebreakers
about, and we are as safe as if we had twenty locks and bolts. Here,
Biddy," to the old servant, "Miss Denis is starving; bring up the cold
fowl, and some more of those hot cakes, as fast as ever you can. Helen,
give me your hat and jacket, and sit down in this arm-chair this minute,
and relate every one of your adventures without delay."
It was impossible to be shy with Dido and Katie; in a few moments their
cousin felt perfectly at home, and they were all holding animated eager
conversation, and talking together as if they had known each other for
weeks. Katie was an incessant chatter-box; no matter who was speaking,
her voice was sure to chime in also, and to keep up a running
accompaniment similar to the variations on a popular air! She was fair,
very plump, and rather pretty,—with the beauty of rosy cheeks, bright
eyes, and curly locks. Dido, the eldest, was tall, and graceful, with a head
and throat that would have served for a sculptor's model; she had
quantities of brown hair, and greenish-grey eyes. Without being exactly
handsome, she had a look of remarkable distinction, and as she stood at
the table busily carving a fowl for the delectation of her hungry guest,
that guest said to herself, that her cousin Dido, for all her threadbare
dress and washed-out red cotton pinafore, aye, and her brogue,—had the
air—of—yes—of a princess!
"When shall I see uncle?" inquired his niece, with dutiful politeness.
"Oh, the Padré never appears in the daytime," replied Katie, "and he only
goes out with the owls; but he will come down and welcome you, of
course. He is very much occupied just now,—and grudges every
moment, his time is so precious."
A grunt of scornful dissent from the old woman here attracted Katie's
notice, and once more resuming her knitting, and her chair, she said,—
"Well, what's the matter now, Biddy, eh? Tell me, what do you think of
Miss Denis?" speaking precisely as if Miss Denis were a hundred miles
away.
Biddy thus adjured, immediately laid down a plate, and resting her hands
on her hips, surveyed the new-comer as coolly and deliberately as if she
was a picture.
"Shure, I'm no great judge, Miss Katie! but since you ax me,—I'll just
give ye me mind. I think she's a teetotally beautiful young lady,—and
that it would be no harm if there was twins of her!"
Helen coloured and laughed, and Dido exclaimed, "Well, that's more
than you ever said of me, Biddy, and I'm your own nurse-child that you
reared ever since I was six months old—you never wished for twins of
me!"
"Troth, and why would I? Many and many's the night that I lost me rest
along of you. Aye, but you wor the peevish little scaltheen! Wan of you
was plenty!"
"And you never called me a teetotally beautiful young lady! I'm
offended."
"Arrah, Miss Dido, sure you would not be askin' me to parjure myself!"
retorted Biddy, with some warmth. "Ye can see with your own two eyes,
that your cousin is a sight better-looking than ayther of yees; but you are
a lady all out! The Queen herself need not be ashamed to be seen walkin'
with ye! Sure, and aren't you cliver! and isn't that enough for you? They
don't go together, I'm thinking—great wit, and great looks!"
"Biddy MacGravy," replied Dido, with great solemnity, "you started off
very nicely,—wishing Miss Helen was a twin—but now you have
spoiled everything! I really think you had better go before you say
something worse,—I really do."
"And sure, and what did I say but what was the pure truth?" folding her
arms over her white apron, and evidently preparing to discuss the subject
exhaustively.
"You have merely told her, that it was doubtful if she was a lady, and that
it was very certain that she was a fool."
"Ah, now, Miss Dido!" in a tone of mournful reproach, "see, now, I
declare to goodness—Whist! here's the masther." And seizing the tray,
the nimble old woman vanished like a flash.
"She is quite one of the family," explained Dido, "and says just what she
pleases. You would never imagine that she had been for years on the
Continent! She acquired nothing there, but the art of making cakes and
coffee——"
"And paying compliments," amended Katie, with a giggle.
At that moment the door opened slowly, and a tall, but bent, white-
headed gentleman entered the room. He had a noble head, a cream-
coloured beard, reaching almost to his waist, and sunken, dark eyes, that
looked out on the world abstractedly, from beneath a penthouse of
shaggy brows. His hands were long and thin, with singularly claw-like
fingers, through which he had a habit of drawing the end of his beard, as
he conversed. He was attired in an easy, grey dressing-gown, a black
skull-cap, and red list slippers.
Helen rose as he approached and extended one of his long hands. His
dreamy eyes flashed into momentary life, as he said, in a curiously slow,
nasal voice,—
"And this is my English niece! Niece, I am glad to see you, for your own
sake,—and for your father's.—He was a worthy brother to my wife. I
hope you will be happy here. By-the-way, how did you come?"
Before Helen could open her lips, Katie, the irrepressible, had begun to
relate her recent experiences, as volubly as if she herself had been a
passenger by the Irish mail; not to mention the Terryscreen post-car!
But long ere her recital had come to an end, her parent's thoughts were
miles away—presumably in the clouds. At length the sudden cessation of
the narrative, recalled him to the present once more, and speaking very
deliberately, he said,—
"You must take us as you find us, niece. We live far beyond any sordid,
worldly circle, enjoying simple, domestic retirement, and a purely rural
life. Our wealth is that of the mind. In mundane substance we are poor,
but at any rate we can offer you one thing, without stint—accept a
welcome." And with a wave of his hand, implying that he had endowed
Helen with some priceless treasure, and a bow signifying that the
interview was at an end, Mr. Sheridan glided noiselessly away, leaving,
as was his invariable wont, the door wide open behind him.
 CHAPTER XXXII.

BARRY'S GUESS.

"O many a shaft at random sent,

Finds mark the archer little meant."—Scott.

T following morning Helen was formally conducted round the

premises by her cousins. They explored the tangled shrubbery, the
garden, and the yard; the latter was empty—save for a clutch of
chickens, and a flock of voracious ducks,—and at least half the offices
were minus roofs and windows.
"The whole place was tumbling down," explained Dido; "and as the
Padré could do nothing, Darby Chute said he might just as well make the
best of a bad job, and he took off the doors and rafters for fire-wood."
"Yes, and Barry was raging," supplemented Katie. "Barry is papa's heir.
—He is our cousin, and lives a mile away on the Terryscreen road. He
says there won't be a stick or a stone left together before long. He often
comes over here. He declares the place is going to rack and ruin."
Helen glanced at the range of yawning, roofless stables, and could not
help sharing in Mr. Barry's rueful anticipations; and Katie, interpreting
her glance, added hastily,—
"But papa will restore it all some day. He always says his brain is his
Golconda, and he will be a Crœsus yet. He says——"
"This is the dairy," interrupted Dido, suddenly turning a big key. "Mind
the step."
It struck Helen that she frequently broke in upon the current of her
sister's narratives, especially when she was attempting to give detailed
descriptions of the sayings and doings of their gifted parent.
"This is the dairy," she repeated, ushering them into a white-washed, red-
tiled room, filled with big, brown pans of wrinkled cream, tubs of milk,
and golden pats of butter.
"We have five fine cows," she said, twirling the key round her thumb.
"We sell the milk about the place, and the butter in Terryscreen market;
Sally MacGravy takes it in every Thursday. She is cook, laundress, and
dairy-maid. The 'Master' churns. By-the-way, I wonder where he is?"
"Where he ought not to be, you may be perfectly certain," responded
Katie. "Yes, I see him, he is over in the turf-house." And sure enough,
just above the half-door of a great shed, the ill-tempered face of an old
brown mule was visible.
"And that's the 'Master,'" exclaimed Helen, rather relieved in her own
mind; for visions of her eccentric uncle wielding the churn-dash had
somewhat disturbed her.
"Yes," said Dido. "We call him the 'Master' because the name suits him
so beautifully. He goes and comes exactly as he pleases, opens doors and
gates, and walks in and out at pleasure. He was here when we came,
eight years ago, and is consequently the oldest inhabitant. Some people
say he is forty years of age; but at any rate he is older than any of us!
Now let us go to the garden."
The garden was of vast extent, surrounded by high grey walls, and
wholly devoted to fruit and vegetables. Grass pathways, lined with
currant and gooseberry bushes, divided it into immense plots of potatoes,
peas, and cabbages. In some places, so dense was the jungle of unwieldy
bushes that these walks were quite impassable.
"What quantities of fruit you will have!" remarked Helen, to whom this
huge garden was a novel sight.
"Yes, there will be a fine crop of strawberries—at least I hope so, for
nothing pays so well," rejoined the distinguished-looking, but practical
Dido. "We make a good deal out of the fruit; and we work hard
ourselves; not in fancy aprons and with little trowels, but in real sober
earnest; we plant, and prune, and weed, and water; and on the whole the
garden is a financial success. And 'All Right' helps us. That's him there
in the next plot—the man without the hat. He minds the cows, and goes
to the post, and makes himself useful. He is called 'All Right' just
because he is not quite all there! Here he is now," as an individual with a
spade over his shoulder, and minus hat and boots, came shuffling down a
neighbouring walk.
Andy was a middle-aged man, who looked quite juvenile; partly on
account of his very light and abundant hair, and almost white eyebrows,
and partly because of a certain childish expression,—relieved by
occasional flashes of very mature cunning.
"Well, Andy," said Dido pleasantly, "you have a fine day for the young
plants; how are you getting on?"
"Oh, finely, Miss, finely."
"Here is our cousin.—Another young lady to help you in the garden, you
see."
Andy, in answer to this introduction, half closed his eyes and scanned her
critically. After a long pause he scornfully replied,—
"Faix I expect she'll only be good for weeding, Miss Dido! And see here,
Miss Dido, not to be losing all our day.—Will ye just tell me what's to be
done with them ash-leaved praties and the skerry-blues? for sorra a know
I know!"
"I'll go this very instant, Andy. Katie, just show Helen round the garden;
but keep clear of the bees whatever you do."
"I'll tell you all about Andy now," said Katie confidentially, taking her
companion's arm as they walked away. "You see what he is like! He was
never very strong in the head at the best of times; but a mistake that
happened a good many years ago, quite settled him.—A mistake about a
murder."
"A murder!" echoed Helen, looking with startled eyes at the slouching
figure that was carrying off her graceful cousin.
"Yes. You must know," continued Katie, now dropping into a tone of glib
narration, "that Crowmore belonged to papa's uncle, an old miser, who
lived in Dublin and let the house, and garden, and a few acres, to a man
of the name of Dillon. The rest of the land was managed by the old
steward, who was a first-rate farmer, and as honest as the sun. But to
return to Dillon. He had a good-for-nothing son, called John, who never
did anything but loaf and poach. In those days Andy was a handy-man,
or boy, about the yard, and he and this John were always quarrelling.
One day John beat him cruelly, and Andy was heard to declare that he
would certainly have his life! Anyway, a short time afterwards, Dillon
was found shot dead up at the black gate, between this and
Ballyredmond, and Andy was taken up and lodged in jail. However, he
was soon discharged, as it was proved at the inquest that Dillon's gun
must have gone off accidentally, though some people say it did not to
this day.—But some people will say anything.—At any rate, the whole
affair gave Andy such a terrible fright, that he has never been the same
since."
"And how is he affected?"
"Chiefly by the sight of a policeman—a 'peeler,' as he calls him. At the
first glimpse, he takes to his heels and runs for his life. He never ventures
beyond the cross-roads, and would not go within a mile of the black gate,
by day or night, for millions; indeed, no one goes round that way after
sundown," she added impressively.
"And pray why not?"
"Because they say John Dillon walks."
"Walks?" echoed Helen, with a look of puzzled curiosity.
"Haunts it, then. Dozens have seen him leaning over the gate, just about
dusk, and it is quite certain that he shoots the coverts as regularly as ever
he did; I've often heard the shots myself."
"Poachers, my dear simple little Katie."
"Poachers, real poachers, would not venture on the Crowmore or
Ballyredmond estates for all the game in Ireland! I'll tell you something
more extraordinary. Dillon had a brace of splendid red setters. I
remember them when we first came, very old, and nearly blind. They say
for a fact, that when these dogs would be lying by the kitchen fire at
night, they would suddenly hear Dillon's whistle, and jump up and rush
to the door, and whine and scratch until they were let out; and then they
would be away for hours, and come home all muddy, and tired, and
draggled, as if they had been working hard. Several people have told me
they have seen this themselves."
"No doubt they have. Some one imitated John's whistle; I could do it
myself, if I heard it once. Some clever poacher was sharp enough to
make use of the late Mr. Dillon's excellent sporting dogs."
"I never thought of that," said Katie reflectively. "But every one here
believes in Dillon's ghost. Darby Chute would not go up the woods after
dark for all you could offer him; he believes in him, so does Barry. Barry
met him once in the dusk; he was carrying game, and he looked so
desperately wicked, and shook his gun in such a threatening way, that
Barry confesses that he turned, as he expresses it, and 'ran like a hare.'"
"And what is this sporting ghost like?"
"He is very tall, with a long black beard, leather gaiters, and a peaked
cap pulled over his eyes."
"My dear Katie, he was the first person to welcome me yesterday! We
met each other in the shrubbery, face to face."
"Oh, Helen, no!" gasped her cousin, suddenly stopping and releasing her
arm. "Were you not frightened to death?"
"Not I! I felt no qualms, no cold thrills; I received no hint that I was in
the presence of the supernatural.—He looked alive, and in the best of
health."
"But he was not," rejoined Katie in a quavering voice; "that was just
John, the terror of the whole country. Oh, Helen, dear, I hope he has not
come to you as a warning," her voice now sinking to an awe-struck
whisper.
"A fiddlestick! it was undoubtedly a human being going out to snare
rabbits. There are no such things as ghosts; at any rate, if this was one, he
smelt very strongly of bad tobacco! Come now, to change the subject, do
tell me something more about your bold cousin Barry,—who runs like a
hare?"
"Oh, Helen! please, now really, you must not laugh at Barry. He can't
bear being chaffed," remonstrated Katie, in some dismay. "He is as brave
as any one in reality."
"Oh, indeed! and what are his other virtues?"
"Perhaps you may think him coarse and countrified, and too fond of
contradicting every word you say, and laying down the law; but he is a
very good fellow in the main, if you take him the right way."
"And what is the right way? Please instruct me, in order that I may find
him a very good fellow!"
"Well; pretend that you think he is conferring a great, great favour, and
he will do anything for you. He can stand any amount of blarney, but no
contradiction!"
"Strictly between ourselves, my little Katie, I don't think I shall like this
cousin of yours."
"Exactly what he said of you," she exclaimed, clapping her hands in
great glee. "He declared you would be a stuck-up English girl, with a
grand accent, and a great opinion of yourself. He said you were sure to
have had your head turned by all the attention you had received in those
islands."
"Well, if it was,—which I do not admit,—it has had ample time to go
back again. Governesses are not often the spoiled darlings of society."
"But you are not a bit like a governess."
"Am I not? You should see me at Mrs. Kane's."
"Barry wondered very much that you came home unmarried," continued
Katie, who knew not the meaning of the words reticence and discretion,
and delighted in the sound of her own voice. "He said it was either of
two things——" pausing meditatively.
"Did he, really! How kind of him to give his mind to my humble affairs,"
exclaimed Helen, with an irony entirely lost upon her cousin, who was
now fighting her way through a small forest of currant bushes, and
discoursing as fluently as if she was sitting in an arm-chair.
"Yes; he said it was either of two things—Helen, mind your eyes with
that branch! Either—I'll give you his own words—either you were
mortal ugly, or you had had a love affair, and the pigs ran through it—
meaning a disappointment, you know."
Helen winced as though she had been struck, and if her companion had
happened to glance round, she would have been astonished at the colour
of her face;—a sudden deep blush suffused it from chin to brow. She told
herself passionately that dislike was far too weak a term to apply to this
country clown, whose clumsy curiosity had probed her secret to the very
core. This to herself; but aloud she merely said,—
"Your cousin Barry must be blessed with a rich imagination?"
"Oh, no! he is not a bit clever; but he is uncommonly sharp. He rather
prides himself——"
Whatever he prided himself upon was not to be disclosed at present, for a
sudden turn brought them close to Dido, who called out,—
"I thought I saw your heads above that thicket! I have to go to the Cross,
to speak to Darby: would you care to come, Helen? You may as well
learn all the geography of the place at once."
To this suggestion she promptly assented, and in a few minutes was
walking down the neatly-kept front avenue, whose gates opened on the
Cross (or cross-road); the middle of which amply testified to the
indefatigable dancing that took place on Sundays (for "Crowmore Cross"
was what the assembly-rooms would be in some populous, fashionable
neighbourhood). A dozen cottages were scattered about, and the
windows of one of them exhibited two long clay pipes, some red and
white candy, and a ball of worsted, and on the strength of this rich
display was called "the shop." Dido halted at the door of a comfortable
slated house, and called out over the half-door,—
"Is Darby within, Mrs. Chute?"
"No, me lady, he is not," replied a little, withered old woman, dropping a
curtsey; then, as her eye fell upon Katie and Helen, she said, "An' this is
your cousin from England? The Lord spare you your health, Miss."
"And how are you yourself, Mrs. Chute?" inquired Dido sympathetically.
"Oh, I got a very heavy turn that last time, me lady; but that stuff you
sent me and the jam did me a power of good. I'm finely now."
"Well, I'm very glad to hear it. Tell Darby I want to see him this evening,
please—it's about the pigs; you won't forget?" said Dido, turning her face
homewards as she spoke.
"Isn't it a funny thing, that of all the years we have been here we have
never been inside Chute's house!" exclaimed Katie. "Mrs. Chute comes
and stands at the door, but she never asks us further. This in Ireland,
where the first word is, 'Won't you walk in and take a sate?' is odd."
"Is that his wife?" inquired Helen.
"Oh, no; his mother. He was nearly being married once to the daughter of
a well-to-do farmer, but they fell out about her dowry. They 'split,' as
they call it, over a chest of drawers. I don't think he will ever marry now.
Somehow the neighbours don't like him; they say he is very distant and
dark in himself."
"I heard you were wanting me, Miss Dido," said a squeaky voice, which
made them all turn round with quite a guilty start.
Standing on the grass behind them (why could he not walk on the road?)
Helen beheld a tall, elderly man, with sharp features and a pair of keen,
grey eyes, set close together in his head. He had a coat over his shoulder,
a stick in his hand, and a most deceitful-looking lurcher at his heels.
"Yes, Darby, I left a message," replied Dido, quickly recovering herself.
"It's only to ask you about selling the store pigs."
"Av they are fit,—and with all the feeding they are getting they bid to be
as fat as snails—ye might sell them on the fifteenth; but mind you,"
shaking his head solemnly, "pigs is down—terribly down! And so this is
your cousin, Miss Denis?" putting his finger to his hat.
"Yes; and you would never know she was any relation, would you?" said
Katie. "Would you guess we were cousins?"
"'Deed I would not. And I never thought them English ladies were so
handsome till now," he rejoined, resting his hands on the top of his stick,
and speaking in a deliberate, confidential squeak. "I declare that wan up
at Ballyredmond has a face that sour on her, she gives me the cramps
every time I look at her; an' her walk!" raising his stick and his eyes
simultaneously, "for all the world like a turkey among stubbles. Now, av
I was asked——"
"Darby, what do you think? Only fancy! she met John Dillon face to face
last evening!" interrupted Katie with extraordinary irrelevance.
A very curious look flashed into Darby's eyes. It came and went in the
space of half a second, and he rejoined, in a peevish, argumentative tone,
—
"And sure, and how would Miss Denis know him?"
"She describes him exactly; cap and all."
"Yes, but all the same, I'm positive that it was no ghost," supplemented
Helen stoutly.
"Holy St. Patrick, do ye hear her!" ejaculated Darby, in a tone of pious
horror. "Well, well, well; poor young lady; it's easy seen she is a
stranger! Don't ye be for letting her out about the place alone after dark
just now," he added in a sort of husky aside.
"It's rather early for him yet," grumbled Katie. "From August to February
is his usual time."
"Yes, the shooting season!" rejoined Helen, with a merry laugh. "Nothing
more is needed to persuade me that the notorious John is anything worse
than a common poacher!"
"Have your own way,—have your own way, Miss," wheezed Darby,
irritably. And it struck her that there was the soupçon of a threat in his
narrow little eyes as he added,—
"Maybe you won't get off so aisy next time he meets you! If ye will be
said and led by me, ye will not be going about alone afther dusk. And
mind, if anything happens, and ye are found with the print of five black
fingers on your neck"—spreading out his own horny digits by way of
illustration—"and stretched as dead as a doornail, don't go and say
afterwards that ye waren't warned."
With this remarkable caution, Darby hitched his coat over his shoulder,
nodded his head impressively, and then turning to Dido, said,—
"I'll be up about them pigs this evening, Miss; but you need not be laying
out to get a heavy price for them! I'm for my dinner now," and with an
abrupt nod, Mr. Chute plodded off.
"I'm sure you are shocked at his free-and-easy ways, Helen—at all their
free-and-easy ways!" exclaimed Dido. "But they mean no incivility, and
they take an interest in the——"
"Yes, Darby, I can see, is very anxious that I should not put myself in the
way of being strangled by John Dillon. Really, it will be quite exciting to
go out after dark."
"And the only excitement we can offer you. You have no idea what a
quiet place you have come to," said Katie; "we have no society at all.
Papa never returned people's visits, or answered their invitations. He
never goes out, excepting about the place, in the dusk; he is entirely
buried in his experiments. People have all sorts of ideas about us; they
think that the Padré practises the black art, and that Dido and I keep pigs
in the parlour, and a threshing-machine in the back hall!"
Helen laughed aloud at this description. If Crowmore was shabby, it was
beautifully clean; and if her cousins occasionally used the first thing to
hand instead of a regulation implement, the interior of the house was not
merely neat, but tasteful.
"Of course, that's an exaggeration," said Dido. "But no one calls here,
excepting the rector, Barry, and old Mr. Redmond. He comes from mere
idle curiosity, to see if we are all alive and the house not burnt down—he
said so! He and papa fought frantically about a Greek word the only time
they ever met. We tried to cut him, he was so awfully rude to the Padré;
but he would not see it, and he comes here, and sends us books, and
baskets of hot-house fruit and flowers, and fish and game. We call it Mr.
Redmond's out-door relief. He is a kind-hearted old man!"
"And does he live alone?"
"No, there is Miss Redmond, his sister, a cripple from rheumatism, and
his ward, a horrid, supercilious creature; and in the shooting season, he
always has a house full. He rents the shooting of Crowmore as well.
Papa lets it—he lets everything."
Her cousin's eyes travelled reflectively along the extensive demesne
wall, and she said,—
"Crowmore is a large estate, is it not?"
"Yes; but you need not run away with the notion that it is a fine property.
We are as poor as rats. On the other hand, Mr. Redmond is as rich as a
Jew."
"Dido, do tell me who is the unfortunate English girl who has such a
painful effect on Mr. Chute," inquired Helen, as she and her relatives
strolled up the avenue arm-in-arm.
"Oh, she is not nearly as bad as he makes out, though personally I do not
like her," replied Dido frankly. "She is the girl we were speaking of just
now; a Miss Calderwood—Kate Calderwood—a great heiress."
"Has she freckles and high shoulders?"—halting as she asked the
question.
"How on earth did you know?" cried Dido in amazement. "Her shoulders
are up to her ears, and she is as freckled as a turkey's egg! But for all that
they say she is engaged to be married,—and to such a good-looking man,
to Mr. Redmond's favourite nephew, Gilbert Lisle."
 CHAPTER XXXIII.

"THE FANCY."

"All impediments in fancy's course

Are motives of more fancy."

J F was one of the most prominent characters about

Crowmore. She lived at the Cross, and haunted that well-beaten
thoroughfare from early morn till dewy eve. Despite her name, "The
Fancy" was certainly no beauty; she had a yellow, wrinkled face, a pair
of greedy little black eyes, and features which bore a ludicrous
resemblance to a turnip ghost. Although she went bare-footed, she wore
good, warm clothes, and a respectable white cap; and no stranger could
have guessed at her profession until she struck up her habitual whine of
—"Give the poor ould woman the price of a cup of tay, your honour, the
price of a cup of tay, and I'll pray for ye; andeed ye might do worse than
have the prayers of the poor!"
Sitting basking at her post, she taxed all comers, and taxed them most
successfully; for the little world of Crowmore were mortally afraid to
draw down the "Fancy's" tongue, and she received propitiatory offerings
of sods of turf, and "locks of male" from her own class, and numerous
sixpences, and coppers, from well-to-do neighbours.
She was the mother of Andy All Right, and looked to the Castle with
confidence for the supply of her wardrobe, and praties, and sweet milk.
She would sorely vex the spirits of those who figuratively buttoned up
their pockets, by loud, uncomplimentary remarks on their personal
appearance, painful allusions to family secrets, and dismal prophetic
warnings of their future downfall. Many a stout-hearted man would
rather (if he had no small change), go a round of two miles, than run the
gauntlet of the "Fancy's" corner.
She had also other means of levying tribute that rarely failed; not
begging with gross directness, or angry importunity, as I regret to say
was her occasional wont, but merely exclaiming aloud, as if talking to
herself,—
"Musha! and it's Mrs. Megaw! and 'tis herself has the finest young
family in the whole side of the country; faix, no one denies that, not wan;
and signs on it, 'tis the mother they takes afther!"
Or to a victim of the sterner sex (who are equally vulnerable in such
matters),—
"And so that's Tim Duffy!"—in a tone of intense surprise—"sure, an' I
hardly know him. Troth, and it's a trate to sit here and see the likes of
him going by. It's an officer in the army he should be, instead of trailing
there, afther a cart of turf!"
These little speeches, had an excellent effect, and generally bore a rich
harvest. She had also an unfailing method of raising a spirit of emulation
among her benefactors. As for instance, having received, we will say
sixpence, from some charitable hand, she would turn it over rather
contemptuously in her palm, and exclaim, in a tone more of sorrow than
of anger,—
"Well, I always thought ye were as free-handed as Mrs. Ryan; and she
never asks me to look at less than a shilling! But maybe ye can't so well
afford it, dear; and God bless ye all the same."
As Helen and her cousins returned from church on Sunday, they descried
the "Fancy" sitting on the hall door-steps; a clean cap on her head, and a
pipe in her mouth.
"Your servant, ladies," she said, without rising, and gazing over their
heads in a rather abstracted (not to say embarrassing) fashion.
"Well, Judy, and what is it to-day?" inquired Dido.
"Oh, it's only Mr. Barry. He is inside"—with a wave of her pipe. "He is a
Justice of the Pace now, and I want him to do a small turn for me. Just go
in and don't trouble yourself about me, dearie."
"So Barry is here!" cried Katie, visibly delighted. "What brings him?
Sunday is never his day?"
"No," admitted her sister, as she followed her into the hall; "but he has
come to see Helen; and it gives him an excuse for his best clothes."
Two large pointers with swaggering bodies, animated tails, and muddy
paws, now rushed out of the drawing-room to meet them; and in the
drawing-room, extended full length on the sofa, in an easy, negligent
attitude, they discovered the pointers' master. Turning his face towards
the door, he said,—
"So you are back at last," then rising slowly, and putting his boots on the
ground, he raised himself to his full height, shot his cuffs, and stared
fixedly at Helen, and she at him (it must be confessed); he was far, far
worse than she had expected. She beheld a middle-sized man, with
bandy legs, a red face, and beaming countenance,—lit up by an inward
sun of self-complacency—dressed in a short cutaway coat, a white
waistcoat, and brilliant tie,—the sleeves of his coat and the legs of his
trousers revealed an unusual margin of red wrist and grey stocking; but
these discrepancies did not occasion the smallest embarrassment to their
wearer.
"I hope you have been pretty comfortable, Barry?" inquired Dido, with a
rueful glance at the tumbled cushions and antimacassars.
"No; that old bench of yours is as hard as a board! This is Miss Denis,
isn't it? Miss Denis," laying his hand on his heart, and making a low bow,
"your most humble."
Which salute the young lady acknowledged by sweeping him a
somewhat disdainful curtsey.
"Many in church?"—now looking at Katie.
"Oh, the usual set, Reids and Redmonds. Mr. Redmond walked down the
avenue with Helen. Helen, you have certainly made a conquest there."
"Of course she has," quoth Barry, seating himself; "it is not every day he
sees a pretty girl in these parts." Thus administering a compliment to her,
and a backhander to his cousins in the same breath.
"What was Miss Calderwood saying to you, Dido?" inquired Katie,—
totally ignoring the foregoing agreeable speech!
"Oh, she talked of the weather, and about Helen. She wanted to know
when she came, how long she was going to stay, and if it was true she
was a governess?"
"Odious girl!" cried Katie, "she has a knack of asking nasty questions. I
can't endure her—nor the glare of her cold grey eyes."
"Oh, she is not a bad sort of young woman," protested Barry, sticking his
thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, and leaning back in his chair.
"She and I get on first-class; but all the same, and quite between
ourselves, girls, I would never think of marrying her!"
Helen stared in astonishment. Unquestionably here was a creature who
pressingly invited the most inflexible snubbings! He on his part had been
gazing at her with untrammelled amazement and admiration, and now
that these feelings had slightly subsided, began to engage her in
conversation.
"And how do you like this part of the world?"
"Very much indeed."
"Humph! I would not have thought you were so easily pleased; it will
seem uncommonly dull after all your fine times in the East; there you
had balls, and parties, and admirers by the score."
Helen drew up her neck, and looked dignified, and he said to himself,
"Ha, ha, my fine madam, I'll have to take you down a peg, if that's your
style."
"Had you a comfortable situation in London at that school?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied haughtily.
"Well, we shall not allow you to go back this long time! Dido, we must
take Helen (could she believe her ears?) over to the band at Terryscreen
next week. I'LL treat you all at the hotel. You don't mind me calling you
Helen, do you? You know we are all cousins here!" concluded Barry,
with a discriminating readiness to claim kinship with a pretty girl.
"Yes," he said to himself, "Katie and Dido were not bad in their way, but
this new connection was really splendid!"
In his mind's eye he already saw himself proudly parading her at the
band, and driving his intimates, and maybe the officers (who were not
his intimates) simply mad with envy.
She was a little bit stiff now, but that would soon wear off.
"And how is the great inventor?" he inquired facetiously.
"As usual," responded Dido, "quite well and very busy."
"Is luncheon ready? for I'm as hungry as a hawk," he said. "I hope you
have got something decent to-day. None of your bacon and eggs! Mind,
Helen, you don't let them starve you, they are by no means liberal with
their butcher's meat," and he laughed uproariously, and evidently
considered that he had said something exquisitely witty.
"We always have meat on Sundays," said Dido sarcastically, as she led
the way to an excellent repast in the dining-room.
When Barry had taken the edge off his appetite, which he compassed in a
manner that excited Helen's disgust, he looked across at her, and said
abruptly,—
"What's the name of those islands you were at?"
"The Andamans."
"You had fine times; twenty men to one girl, and no end of tennis and
parties; it's the other way about here," grinning complacently, "twenty
girls to one man, and no parties, balls, or fun of any kind."
"I was only at one dance all the time I was at Port Blair."
"Port Blair! now i have it!" suddenly laying down his knife and fork, and
speaking in a loud, exultant tone, "I thought i had heard of the place
somewhere. Girls, I'll tell you who was at those islands for months, old
Redmond's nephew! I say, Helen, did you ever come across a fellow, of
the name of Lisle?"
"Yes, I knew him," returning his gaze with calm, untroubled eyes.
"He was there for a long time. What was the attraction, eh?"
"How can I tell you? Sport, I believe."
"Oh!" with a palpable wink at Katie. "Sport! There are a good many
different kinds of sport. And now tell me what you think of him."
"I'm not prepared with an opinion at such short notice."
"Which means that you don't like him! Neither do I. Come, that's one
bond of union—give us your hand on it," jumping up and stretching an
eager red member across the table,—where it remained alone, and
unsought!
"I never said that I did not like Mr. Lisle," returned Helen, with freezing
politeness.
"Oh!" drawing back, visibly affronted. "So that's the way with you, is it?
Well, he is not a bad-looking chap, and you know he is a great catch!
Plenty of other girls would give their ears to marry him."
"Pray explain yourself, Mr. Sheridan," said Helen, fiercely. "Do you
mean me to understand that I would have given my ears to marry him?"
Her eyes were flashing and her colour rising, and there was every
indication of a domestic storm.
"Don't mind him! Don't mind him!" cried Katie, gallantly turning the tide
of battle, "it's only his chaff; he loves to put people in a passion. Barry,
you must really remember that Helen is not used to your jokes yet."
"Nor ever would be," thought that young lady, wrathfully.
"Oh, well, no offence, no offence; I did not know you were so touchy
about him! He is a great favourite with the old boy—I mean his uncle,—
but he is hardly ever here, always rambling about the world. I think
myself, he is by no means the saint his fond relations imagine, and that
he has a screw loose somewhere."
"And I'm sure he has not," rejoined Dido, hotly. "I like him, though I've
only met him once or twice. He is a gentleman, which is more than I can
say for other people in this part of the world. He is delightful to talk to,
very good-looking, never gives himself airs, never brags——"
"One would think you were his hired trumpeter," interrupted Barry,
angrily. "What do you know, a girl like you! Believe me, still waters run
deep. Give me a jolly, above-board chap that will light a pipe, and mix a
tumbler of whisky punch, and open his mind to you! None of your cool,
deliberate fellows, who smoke cigarettes, drink claret, and look as if you
have seven heads when you make a little joke."
"I wonder if he is coming for the shooting," said Katie, amiably anxious
to smooth matters. "He is fond of it, I know."
"Yes, and a fair shot, but jealous, as I found the only day I was out with
him; twice he took my bird."
"Perhaps because you missed it," retorted Dido, coolly. "Sometimes he
comes for a month's hunting in winter,"—turning to Helen. "He's a
splendid rider, the best in the county."
"Well, I don't know about that, Dido! Ahem! I don't wish to praise
myself, but I'll be glad to hear of a more forward man with the Bag Fox
pack, than Barry Sheridan, Esq., J.P. Why, the very last time I was out I
jumped a gate—a five-barred gate!" addressing himself specially to
Helen.
"Then if you did, Barry," said Dido, rising and pushing back her chair, "it
must have been on the ground! You know very well that you can't ride a
yard. Your shooting I don't deny; but when you boast of jumping five-
barred gates, you know you are talking nonsense." So saying, she walked
out of the room, followed by the two girls and Barry—who brought up
the rear after a considerable interval, muttering wrathfully to himself.
As he passed into the hall, he came in full view of the "Fancy," seated on
the steps. On beholding him, she called out in her most dulcet coaxing
key,—
"Oh, my own darling young gentleman, you are a sight for sore eyes;
your 'Fancy' has been waiting on you these two hours!"
"Then she must wait," he growled, nevertheless approaching, with his
hands in his pockets and a rather important strut.
"Oh, then, I know ye don't mane that. An' sure now, Miss," appealing to
Helen, and languishing at her with her head on one side, "and isn't he an
ornament to any country?"
Helen became crimson with suppressed laughter, and was totally unable
to utter any reply. However, her levity was not lost on Barry, who made a
note of it against some future occasion, when she should be repaid in
kind.
"Well, Judy, what is it?" impatiently.
"Only a whisper, darlin'. 'Tis just this," suddenly rising to her feet, "ever
since I lost me health, come Christmas twenty years, and manny and
manny a time before that, I washed for your mother——"
"Just cut all that part, will you?"
"Well thin, I'm here at the Cross, a poor, lone widder, that has buried all
belonging to me but Andy, and living on the charity of the public, as ye
know, this blessed nineteen years! And now, a thief of a black stranger
from beyant Terryscreen, has come and set himself down alongside of
me. A blind man itself—any way it's what he lets on—and every one
knows I'm not; and they are all for giving to the poor dark creature. And
sure, he has me ruined and destroyed entirely!" now raising her voice a
full octave, and commencing to cry with alarming energy.
"You know if I did right I'd give you six weeks of Terryscreen jail for
begging in the public highway," said Barry, magisterially.
"An' if ye did that same," drying her eyes, and stretching out her hands,
"I take these beautiful angels as mee witnesses, I'd rather have six weeks
from your honour, than six days from another; and that's as sure as I'm
standing here!"
Barry was palpably flattered, and grinned, and looked at Helen out of the
corner of his left eye to see if she was impressed, as much as to say,
"What do you think of that?"—But, unfortunately, she was grinning also.
"Indeed, it's bitterly cold in winter," put in Dido, "and I'm not a bit sorry
that some one has taken your corner. With Andy in constant work, and
milk, and potatoes, and a pinch of tea from us, you know you will never
miss it."
"Arrah, Miss Dido! sure ye don't know what you are talking about. And
how would ye? If that rapscallion gets a footing in my holding, it's ruin
and destruction that's in it; just that, and no more! Why," lowering her
voice mysteriously, "sure it's as good as a farm to me, darlin'! Aye, and
betther; it's all in-comings, and no stock, and no rint."
This amazing confidence threw an entirely new light on the subject. Her
three listeners stared at the old woman in respectful astonishment. They
would have stared still more, could they have seen the comfortably-filled
stocking that was hidden away under the thatch of Judy's cabin.
"Well, I can't stay here all day. I'll see what I can do for you," said Barry,
abruptly. "I've important papers to sign at home, and I must be off."
The truth was, that the good gentleman was ruffled at Helen's attitude of
repressed amusement, and at Dido's courageous candour; and he felt that
he could not punish the offending couple more simply, or more
effectually, than by removing himself, and leaving them to their own
devices all through the long Sunday afternoon. He flattered himself that
Miss Denis would soon learn his value.
Now Barry was the only eligible bachelor, in a neighbourhood where
there were legions of girls,—and was fully sensible of his own
importance. In his secret heart, he believed that he had only to ask any
young woman within a radius of say twenty miles, and, in his own
homely parlance, "she would be thankful to jump at him." And he felt
conscious that he was dealing a cruel blow to the little circle at
Crowmore when, seizing his hat and stick, and calling his dogs, he bade
them a general farewell, and hurried down the steps.
His departure was the signal for the "Fancy" to take leave. Willy nilly,
she escorted him to the gate,—to the intense delight of the spectators in
the doorway. Vainly he tried to shake her off; vainly he increased his
pace; his manœuvres were totally unavailing, his companion still trotted
bare-footed beside him, gesticulating as she went with both head and
hands. Her eloquence undoubtedly had its reward, for within a week "the
dark man from beyond Terryscreen" had mysteriously disappeared, and
she reigned in undisputed possession of her own warm corner.
 CHAPTER XXXIV.

"THE SLAVE OF BEAUTY."

"A 'strange coincidence,' to use a phrase

By which such things are settled now-a-
days."
Byron.
"H ' the comrade of your glove, Miss Dido," said Biddy, descending
into the hall, where the three girls, attired in their best summer dresses
(being about to set forth for a tennis party at Ballyredmond), were
impatiently awaiting her.
"Will I do?" inquired Dido, as she received her property. "Or is my hat
too shabby? This is its third summer, you know!"
"An' deed, an' you'll do finely; 'tis only too grand you are! What call is
there to be dressing just for the ould gentleman and Miss Calderwood,
and maybe Misther Barry, that ye can see any day of the week without
putting yourselves to any rounds at all?" demanded Biddy in an
acrimonious key.
"Oh, but this is to be quite a grand affair," protested her younger
nursling. "We have had three days' invitation. It's my opinion," glancing
at her pretty cousin, "that this 'at home' is given for you, Helen. Mr.
Redmond has been here twice this week; you have bewitched him."
"I would not put it past him! for nothing grows old with a man but his
clothes," cried Biddy scornfully. "And shure he might give something
dacent when he went about it; I've no opinion of these grass parties and
chape entertainments. God be with the good ould times, when no one
was axed to cross the door, under a dinner or a ball; indade, Redmond's
own father used to give the height of high feedin' and kep' a butt of claret
standing in the hall, just ready to your hand. But now, when you go out,
no one even so much as axes, if you have a mouth on you?—for—by a
drink of tay, that wake, that ye can see the bottom of the cup!"
Notwithstanding this gloomy sketch, the three young ladies (to whom
this "chape entertainment" was a delightful novelty) were not the least
disheartened, and set off to walk across the demesne in the highest
possible spirits, leaving Biddy and her apple-cheeked niece filling up the
doorway, and gazing after them with the affectionate complacency of
people who were surveying a creditable personal possession.
"There's not their like in the county!" exclaimed Sally, as she folded her
massive arms across her apron strings.
"No, nor in ten counties! and what's the good of it all; will ye tell me
that?" inquired her aunt peevishly. "There's Miss Dido, with the walk of
a duchess and the voice of a thrush, and Miss Helen, a real beauty, and
Katie not too bad entirely,—and not a sign of any one, watching wan of
them!"
"I think Misther Barry has an eye on Miss Denis," insinuated Sally
timidly.
"Is it that spalpeen? An' much good may it do him! She would not look
at the same side of the road as him," returned Biddy fiercely. "He would
not dar' to ax her. Shure she's the only one of them all knows how to talk
to him, and that quenches him rightly."
"That's true for you," assented Sally, nodding her head in grave
acknowledgment of this indisputable fact.
"It's just killing me," continued the old woman, "to see them young
ladies wasting their looks and their years here, slaving in the house, and
garden, like blacks. What's to be the end of it, at all, at all?"
"The end will be that the masther will burn us all in our beds yet,"
replied Sally with angry promptitude. "What is he up to now?" glancing
at one of the tower windows, out of which vast volumes of dense black
smoke were curling in lazy clouds.
"Oh, the Lord only knows!" retorted her aunt impatiently, as she turned
and walked into the hall with an unusually sour expression on her jovial
old countenance.
"There's no daling with the likes of him," she muttered as she descended
to the lower regions, "for he will nayther do wan thing, or the other; he
won't go properly out of his mind, and he won't lave it alone; and he has
me fairly bothered, and me heart is broke, with his mischeevous
contrivances."
Meanwhile, the three girls walked over the hill, and passed through
Dillon's gate into the precincts of Ballyredmond, a fine park of
seemingly endless extent, through which a beautifully-kept avenue
wound like a white ribbon, by clumps of beeches, rows of lime trees, and
great solitary oaks. Nearer the house beds of brilliant flowers broke the
monotony of the turf, and a long gravelled terrace was crowned by an
ugly but dignified-looking mansion, that seemed an appropriate centre
for the surrounding scene.
The Misses Sheridan and Miss Denis were the last arrivals, and were
received by Miss Redmond in the pleasure-ground. They found her
sitting under a tree in her bath chair, arrayed in her best white shawl and
a picturesque garden bonnet. She was a pretty old lady, with white hair,
an ivory skin, and soft, caressing manners, and she greeted the three
chaperoneless (to coin a word) girls with evident pleasure. Not so Miss
Calderwood, the deputy hostess; her welcome was by no means so
gracious or so genial. She gave the two Sheridans a limp shake-hands,
and bestowed a curt bow and a long stare upon their cousin, the
governess (who was looking remarkably pretty and well-dressed in one
of the costumes upon which Mrs. Creery had once fixed her elderly
affections). Evidently she did not think that Miss Denis was entitled to
participate in the advantages of her acquaintance and patronage.
However, Mr. Redmond more than atoned for his ward's deficiencies. He
led Helen to a seat, introduced her to several of the county people, fussed
about her rather too assiduously with tea and cakes and other light
refreshments, and finally took share of the same rustic bench, and
engaged her entire attention.
Biddy's dismal forebodings had been brilliantly refuted. We notice the
party from the Rectory (a considerable contingent), several remote
families, half-a-dozen officers from a garrison town, and last, but by no
means least, our friend Barry, standing beside Miss Calderwood, with his
hands behind his back, and such an air of serious criticism in his port,
that one would imagine he was in an African slave-market, and
contemplated the purchase of one or two of Mr. Redmond's guests.
Mr. Redmond himself never left Helen's side, and coolly (and I consider
selfishly) dismissed all overtures respecting a game of tennis, with a
bland wave of his hand. His beautiful young protégée, the desired partner
of several eligible tennis players, was simply not allowed to have a voice
in the matter.
"We are very happy here! Just go away, my good fellow, and leave us
alone," was his complacent reply to each eager suitor. "You and I," to
Helen, "will do better than that! we will stroll round the grounds together
by-and-by, when all these energetic idiots have settled down to what they
consider the business of life."
It never seemed to occur to him that Helen would have preferred to join
the said band of energetic idiots, or to have liked the company of a
younger swain—and presently he marched her off—to make a grand tour
of the greenhouses and gardens.
Although Mr. Redmond was a little, round, old gentleman, who had
white eyebrows, and wore an ostentatious brown wig—his heart was as
young, as susceptible, and as fickle as if he was three-and-twenty; he
delighted in a pretty face, and especially in the company of a lovely,
smiling girl, like his present companion, who, besides all her other
charms, proved to be a most accomplished listener. As they walked, he
talked, talked incessantly; indeed, the garrulous old personage became
most gratuitously confidential about his property, his neighbours, and his
nephew. "My nephew" was dragged headlong into every other sentence,
—conversationally you came face to face with "my nephew" at each
corner; his opinion was quoted on all conceivable subjects, from politics
down to black currant jam. Another listener might have been a little
bored, and even irritated, but the pretty tall girl in white listened with a
greedy attention, of which she angrily told herself she ought to be
heartily ashamed.—The world was but a small place after all! Here, in
what her aunt Julia called the "wilds," she was strolling along, tête-à-tête
with Gilbert Lisle's uncle, undoubtedly the very identical old gentleman
whom he had mentioned as carrying on an ink feud with his father, but
who was somewhat partial to him. Partial was no word for it! infatuation
was nearer to the mark.
"I'm sure all those young fellows are mad with me for carrying you off,"
and he chuckled delightedly. "But, after all, it's no reason that because
I'm an old fogey I'm not to have a pleasant afternoon, too, eh? From the
time I could walk alone, I was always the slave of Beauty!" Here he
doffed his hat, and made Helen a most courtly bow, at which she blushed
and laughed.
"Yes, the slave of Beauty; all the same," resuming his hat with a flourish;
"I never married, you see! The fact was, I butterflied about too long, and
then it was winter before I knew where I was! We are not a marrying
family; there's my sister and myself, and my nephew, I'm always
preaching to him, but he laughs when I talk to him, and tells me to go
and marry myself—impudent rascal, that's a nice way to speak to his
uncle, eh? All the same, he is a fine fellow, as true as steel, and a more
honourable, upright gentleman never drew breath; whoever gets him for
a husband will be a lucky girl."
The corners of his companion's pretty lips curved somewhat scornfully,
and she said to herself, "Shall I explode a social torpedo under this
innocent old gentleman's feet, and say I know your illustrious nephew, he
asked me to marry him, and instantly took ship and left me; although he
swore that he would return, as surely as the sun rose in the heavens!
Would it be agreeable to her companion to learn that his paragon's idea
of honour was more elastic than he imagined?"
"Two or three times," continued Mr. Redmond, "I've tried to marry my
nephew to some nice girl, and it has always been a dead failure, I've
picked out a beauty, had her to stay, got up riding parties, driving parties,
and even moonlight picnics (as if moonlight picnics were irresistible),
and it was all no go. Just as I thought everything was arranged, he would
slip through my fingers like a piece of soap!" (precisely Helen's own
experience). "Well, now I want to ask your advice. What do you think of
those two yew-trees?" he demanded with rather bewildering suddenness.
"I—candidly, I don't admire them; they remind one of a church-yard."
"Exactly, and as I don't want to be reminded of anything so deuced
unpleasant: down they shall come! And, now, what's your opinion of
these new flower-beds they have just cut out in this ribbon garden?"
"I think they are not sharp enough at the corners; they are too much the
shape of biscuits,—the 'People's mixed.'"
"So they are! and shall we have them filled with pink verbenas, or
crimson geraniums?"
"Crimson—that lovely new, deep shade."
"And crimson it shall be! Allow me to give you this rose!" suddenly
plucking one as he spoke. "My dear Miss Denis, I see that our tastes are
identical.—I only wish I was a young man for your sake."
His companion made no response, but on the whole she thought she
preferred him as he was.
By this time they had encountered various other promenading couples,
and in a shady walk they came face to face with Barry and Miss
Calderwood, and the latter, instead of passing by on the other side, with
her nose in the air, halted directly in front of Helen, and said most
abruptly,—
"Miss Denis, Mr. Sheridan tells me that you were in the Andamans with
Gilbert Lisle,—and knew him intimately!"
Helen coloured vividly, partly at this sudden accost and partly because of
that sting in the tail of the sentence, that thrice underlined word
"intimately;" and Mr. Redmond, wheeling swiftly round so as to face her,
ejaculated, "God bless my soul! you don't tell me so."
"Yes, I knew a Mr. Lisle in the Andamans," admitted Helen reluctantly.
"Only fancy! How immensely funny!" drawled Miss Calderwood.
To Helen there had been nothing specially amusing in the acquaintance,
so she closed her lips firmly and held her peace.
"Why—why—I've been talking to you about him for the last hour, and
you never told me this!" cried Mr. Redmond, eyeing her with an air of
angry suspicion. "Eh, what?"
"You mentioned no name," faltered the young lady, feeling that verily
this quibbling with the truth was as bad as any downright lie; but
confronted by three curious faces, with the eyes of Barry—of Gilbert
Lisle's uncle—and Gilbert Lisle's betrothed, fixed imperatively on hers—
was she to appease their greedy curiosity and boldly confess the painful
reason of her silence? was she to proclaim the humiliating fact that they
were all staring at the girl who had been jilted by that honourable
gentleman?
"Mentioned no name—neither I did! And how were you to know? Eh,
what? Well, and what did you think of my nephew?" inquired the
loquacious old relative.
At this point-blank query Miss Calderwood flashed a satirical look at
Miss Denis, as much as to say, "What a silly unnecessary question!" But
Helen met her eyes with proud steadiness.
"I think most people liked Mr. Lisle," she answered with well-assumed
carelessness.
"And how long was he at the Andamans?" continued Mr. Redmond.
"About six months."