when he banged a frying-pan against the front of the oven. 

 "I hope I haven't startled you," he said politely.  "I shall be greatly obliged if you will tell me where Mr. Doyle is to be found." 

 "He's within in his own room; and what's more, the doctor's along with him, and he did say that nobody was to be let next or nigh him by reason of his being busy." 

 "If he's busy," said Meldon, "he's the only man in Ballymoy that is, excepting myself; and any way that prohibition doesn't apply to me. I'm an old friend. I'll just step in and see him. You needn't announce me. If you like you can go to sleep again; but if I were you I'd be beginning to get the dinner. It's near twelve o'clock." 

 "Is it, then?" 

 "It is. Is your name Bridget or Mary?" 

 "It's Sabina they call me." 

 "You're not a bad-looking girl, Sabina; and if you'd attend to your business instead of going to sleep in the middle of the day, you might die a rich woman yet." 

 "I would not, then. How would the like of me be rich?" 

 "You certainly won't be," said Meldon, "if you don't do your work." 

 "The potatoes is in the pot," said Sabina. 

 "They may be; but Mr. Doyle will be looking for more than potatoes at dinner time. He doesn't look as if he lived entirely on potatoes." 

 Sabina grinned. Doyle was a portly man. 

 "It won't take me long to fry a couple of rashers," she said, "once the grease is hot." 

 "And is fried bacon and potatoes all you're going to give the poor man? What wages does he pay you?" 

 "Six pounds." 

 "Very well. Now listen to me, Sabina. You put your back into it and cook the man a decent dinner. Give him soup, and then a nicely done chop with a dish of spinach and some fried potatoes. After that a sweet omelette—" 

 "Glory be to God!" said Sabina. 

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