Grey Town after many years, and Grey Town in the early summer, when the farmers were congratulating themselves on fat factory cheques. But a changed Grey Town, for prosperity had transformed the town. It was no longer merely a country centre for a pastoral and agricultural district, but a busy industrial town, where the manufacturing interests were as important as the farming interests; where every morning a stream of workers flowed from the outside suburbs into the town; where there was bustle and noise and confusion; where money circulated freely; where men grew rich and proud in the power of their money bags. A happier Grey Town? Perhaps not quite so contented as the lazy, easy-going, and self-satisfied Grey Town, as Denis Quirk had found it, for here comparative poverty stood side by side with riches, and suffered in the contrast.

Prosperity had come to the town on sound lines, thanks to Denis Quirk. He had provided that riches should not be accumulated in Grey Town at the expense of suffering and discomfort to the poor. It was thanks to him, so the Grey Towners said, that the factory area was separated from the residential portion of the town. They also hinted in Grey Town that he was largely responsible for the Government Bill, compelling landlords to provide their tenants with sufficient space for a garden and yard of greater extent than one might swing a cat in. There were others in it, Grey Town acknowledged that; but their Member, their Denis Quirk, was the prime mover.

He was rich now, and happy, but I may safely say that no poor man paused beside his gate to hurl a curse at the oppressor of the unfortunate. He still had enemies—his determined and combative nature made that unavoidable—but his enemies were of those who had been prevented from exploiting the poor by his agency. These termed him an enemy to progress, their notions of progress being summed up in self-progress. And they vowed that "that demagogue Quirk" should go out when the country recovered its mental equilibrium, lost for the time in an absurd humanitarianism. He was in his garden, sitting on a garden seat, with a book in his hand, but work had been declared an insult by the two rosy rogues, a boy and a girl, by the way, who had escaped from Nurse, now vainly seeking them in the house. Kathleen was beside her husband, watching in an amused manner the subservience of the master of men to the children.

Kathleen, the elder, was a copy of her mother; Denis, the boy, promised to be as good as his father; singly, they were powerful; united, as to-day, they were irresistible. And they had decided that "Daddy" must play a game with them, and the game should be hide and seek.

"Hide 'oo eyes and count," said Kathleen, junior, in a compelling voice.

"But Daddy wants to read," expostulated Mother, in a tone of entreaty.

"Daddy mustn't read to-day. It's Denny's birfday. Daddies don't read on their little boys' birfdays, does they, Denny?"

"No," replied Denny, in a voice of conviction.

"What do Daddies do under such circumstances?" asked Denis, senior, in an amused tone of voice.

"What their little girls wants them to do, doesn't them, Denny?"

"'Es," answered Denny, seeing no reason to controvert this reasoning.

"But it's not your birthday, Kath," suggested Mother.

"It's Denny's, and Denny gave it to me, 'cos I told him I wouldn't kiss him if he didn't."

Here the peculiar injustice of this proceeding suddenly struck Denny, and he began to cry, not in a quiet and subdued manner, as a respectable boy would, but in a stentorian roar.

It was at this moment that Molly Healy came up the avenue, and she rushed at and snatched Denny up in her arms.

"Were they cruel to my boy on his birthday? Never mind. Molly's brought you something nice," she cried.

"Now, be under no misapprehensions, Miss Molly Healy. Neither Kathleen nor I have done anything to deserve that scornful look. If you must scold anyone, there is the culprit. Kath. has swindled Denny out of his birthday."

Kath. had noted the result of Denny's roaring, and she argued that similar conduct on her part would meet with similar treatment. Therefore, she took up the strain of loud weeping, from which Molly had interrupted her brother.

"Something for you, too, Kath.," cried the kind-hearted and impulsive Molly, handing Kath. a parcel similar to that which the boy was hugging in his arms. Straightway Kath. ceased from tears, and consented, when Nurse appeared, to accompany her indoors and there investigate the contents.

"I've done it at last!" said Molly, when she had ceased from bestowing kisses on the children, greatly to Nurse's indignation, and had permitted them to be led away.

"You don't mean to tell me!" cried Kathleen, springing up impulsively and kissing Molly.

"Done what? Murder, suicide, or the Confiding Public?" asked Denis.

"Oh! you old stupid. You never understand," cried Kathleen.

"I claim to understand the English language when it is openly expressed. But I lay no claim to a knowledge of female wireless telegraphy. Miss Molly tells you, in the tone of one who confesses a crime, that she has 'done it at last.' If she will explain, I may possibly be able to change the sentence from murder to justifiable homicide."

Kathleen went to him and whispered in his ear.

He rose, and grasped Molly's hand so firmly that she winced under his pressure.

"And why was this not done years ago?" he asked. "Why keep an unfortunate poor man constantly on the verge of suicide?"

"I was getting over Desmond," replied Molly! "It takes a girl a long time to recover from a heart affection, and I was trying him to learn if he was constant."

"Well, better late than never. I wish you and Cairns joy. Have you mastered housekeeping yet?"

"There you are!" cried Molly triumphantly. "How should I marry and never know how to look after the man's house? But I am getting on now, and I don't expect to be much better this side of the grave, so when he came with his monthly 'Will you?' I just dropped into his arms, and that ended it."

"And what did Cairns do under those distressing circumstances?"

"He didn't know exactly what to do until I told him. Then he did it fairly well for an amateur."

"And when do you intend to be married?" asked Kathleen.

"Next week, to be sure," answered Molly without hesitation.

"Impossible! It would be an outrage on the conventialities," cried Denis.

"And haven't I been outraging them ever since I came to Grey Town? If they expect anything ordinary of Molly Healy, they won't get what they expect. Next week will be Easter, and Desmond here to marry us, and next week will see Molly Healy Molly Cairns."