a seat up here in my car, from Mrs. Kelligan's, the night of the storm."
"I remember well," he said; "and I was thankful to you, for I was in trouble that night—it's all done now." And he looked round the land with a sneer, and then he looked yearningly towards his old farm.
"Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Sutherland," said I.
"I ask yer pardon, sir. An' I don't wish to be rude—but I don't want to know him. He's no frind to me and mine!"
Dick's honest, manly face grew red with shame. I thought he was going to say something angrily, so cut in as quickly as I could:—
"You are sadly mistaken, Mr. Joyce; Dick Sutherland is too good a gentleman to do wrong to you or any man. How can you think such a thing?"
"A man what consorts wid me enemy can be no frind of mine!"
"But he doesn't consort with him; he hates him. He was simply engaged to make certain investigations for him as a scientific man. Why, I don't suppose you yourself hate Murdock more than Dick does."
"Thin I ax yer pardon, sir," said Joyce. "I like to wrong no man, an' I'm glad to be set right."
Things were going admirably, and we were all beginning to feel at ease, when we saw Andy approach. I groaned in spirit—Andy was gradually taking shape to me as an evil genius. He approached, and making his best bow, said:—
