The Irish standard., 1893-09-02

A sound startled him as ne spo-,,
and, looking round suspiciously, he
saw Matt entering the room loaded
with broken wood. But she was
not alone; standing behind her in the
shadow was a man-none other, in
deed, than Monk, of Monkshurst.
down her load of wood Monk stood in
the doorway. His quick eye had noted
the movements of father and son.
"More plunder, William Jones?" he
asked, grimly,
In moment William Jones was
transformed. The keen expression of
his face changed to one OF mingled stu
pidity and sadness; he began to whine.
"More plunder, Mr.. Monk?" he said.
''No, no; the days for finding that is
gone. Matt and me has been on the
shore foraging for bit of tirewood-
that be all. J.. Put it down, Matt; put 1t
down. :
Matt did as she was told; opening
her arms, she threw her load into a
corner of the room; then William Jones
hurried the whole party back into the
kitchen.
The men seated themselves on
benches, but Matt moved about the
room to get a light. The light, as we'll
as everything else, was living illus
tration of the meanness of William
Jones. It consisted, not of a candle,
but of long rush which had been
gathered from the marshes by Matt
and afterwards dried and dipped in
grease by William Jones. Matt lighted
it and fixed it in little iron niche
which was evidently made for the pur-
table near the hearth. When the work
was finished she threw off her hat and
Jacket, retired to the further end of the
hearth and sat down on the floor.
During the whole of this time Mr..
Monk had been watching her gloom
lily; and he had been watched in his
turn by William Jones. At last the
latter spoke:
''Matt's growed,'' said he; ''she's
growed wonderful. Lord bless us!
she's bit changed she is sin that
shore. Why, her own friends wouldn't
know her!'
Mr. Monk stared and frowned.
''Her friends?" he said-''what
friends?"
''Why, them as owns her." continued
William Jones. eff they wasn't all
drowned in the ship what she came
ashore from, they must be somewheer.
Mayhap some day they'll find her and
reward me for bringin' her up good
gal-that's what allus tell her.
$50 that's what you always tell her,
do you?'' returned Monk. grimly.
~Then you're a fool for your pains.
The girls got no friends-haven't
told you that before?''
"Certainly you have, Mr.. Monk" re-
turned William Jones, meekly; ''but
look We now, think''-
you've no right to Think thun-
dered Monk; you're not paid for
thinking; you're paid for keeping the
girl, and what more do you want?
Matt,'' he continued, in a softer tone,
''come to me-"
But Matt didn't hear-or at any rate,
did not heed, for she made no move.
ment. Then Monk, gazing intently at
her, gave vent to the same remark that
William Jones had done a few hours
before.
''Where have you been to-day" he
said, ito have on that frock?'
Again Matt hung her head and was
silent. Monk repeated his question,
and, seeing that he was determined to
have an answer, she threw up her head
defiantly and said, with tone of pride
in her voice:
81 put it on to be toOk!''
''To be took?" repeated Monk.
"Yes,'' returned Matt; ''to have my
likeness took. There be a painter chap
here that lives in a cart; he's took it.
1t was curious to note the changes in
Mr.. Monks face At first he tried to
appear amiable; then his face gradual
ly darkened into a look of angry sus-
picion. Matt never once withdrew her
eyes from ,him-his very presence
seemed to arouse all that was bad in
her, and she glanced at him through
her tangled locks in much the same
manner as shaggy terrier puppy might
gaze at bull which it would fain
attack, but feared on account of its
superior strength.
sMatt,'' said Mr.. Monk again, t'come
here"
This time she obeyed; she rose slow
II from her seat and went reluctantly
to his side.
t'Matt, look me in the face" he said.
''Do you know who this painter is?'
Matt shook her head.
How many times have you seem
him?'
s'Twice."
.'And what has he said to you?''
"A lot O. things"
''TeI me one thing
'.He asked me who my mother was,
and told him hadn't got hone"
Mr.. Monks face once more grew
black as night.
$50" he said, ''polSing and prying
and asking questions. l thought as
much. He's a scoundrelly vagabond. !"
''No, he ain't,'' said Matt, bluntly.
"Matt, my girl said Mr.. Monk, tax
ing no notice of her interruption, 81
want you to promise me something"
'.What is it?''
ssNot to 90 near that painter again!"