Donald shrugged his shoulders.
"You seem to have the place well guarded," he responded, "and I only came back for one thing. They gave me some letters at the post office for my uncle when I was getting my own, earlier in the day. Somehow I forgot to leave them, so, when I found them in my pocket, I brought them back rather than have a delay on my conscience. I will be going away early in the morning."
He gave the letters to Elizabeth, who took them mechanically.
"And—and how is my uncle now?' he asked hesitatingly; "if I had only known—if there is anything I can do—"
"You were always a cruel one with your tongue, Mr. Donald," Michael interrupted him drily, "and you should have learned by now that where words have hurt, words cannot heal. It is against the nature of things."
"I see, Michael, that you are the same stiff-necked old bigot still," returned the other. "Do you remember how Ted and I caught you burning three feathers of the black cock's tail on Midsummer Eve, to keep off bad luck for the year? Do you do such things still?"
"To burn the whole black cock would not lift the ill luck falling on the house that shelters you," re-
