That, indeed, was a busy and a melancholy day with the M’Mahons; for, in addition to the death of the old grandfather, they were obliged to receive farewell visits to no end from their relations, neighbors, and acquaintances.  Indeed it would be difficult to find a family in a state of greater distress and sorrow.  The auction, of course, was postponed for a week—­that is, until after the old man’s funeral—­and the consequence was that circumstances, affecting the fate of our dramatis personae had time to be developed, which would otherwise have occurred too late to be available for the purposes of our narrative.  This renders it necessary that we should return to a period in it somewhat anterior to that at which we have now arrived.

CHAPTEE XXVI.—­Containing a Variety of Matters.

Our readers cannot have forgotten the angry dialogue which Kate Hogan and her male relations indulged in upon the misunderstanding that had occurred between the Cavanaghs and M’Mahons, and its imputed cause.  We stated at the time that Hycy Burke and the Hogans, together with a strange man and woman, were embarked in some mysterious proceedings from which both Kate Hogan and Teddy Phats had been excluded.  For some time, both before and after that night, there had been, on the other hand, a good, deal of mysterious communication between several of our other characters.  For instance Kate Hogan and Nanny Peety had had frequent interviews, to which, in the course of time, old Peety, Teddy Phats, and, after him, our friend the schoolmaster had been admitted.  Nanny Peety had also called on Father Magowan, and, after him, upon young Clinton; and it was evident, from the result of her disclosures to the two latter, that they also took a warm interest, and were admitted to a participation in, the councils we mention.  To these proceedings Clinton had not been long privy when he began to communicate with Vanston, who, on his part, extended the mystery to Chevydale, between whom and himself several confidential interviews had already taken place.  Having thrown out these hints to our readers, we beg them to accompany us once more to the parlor of Clinton the gauger and his nephew.

“So, uncle, now that you have been promoted to the Supervisorship, you abandon the farm; you abandon Ahadarra?”

“Why, won’t I be out of the district, you blockhead? and you persist in refusing it besides.”

“Most positively; but I always suspected that Fethertonge was a scoundrel, as his conduct in that very business with you was a proo—­hem, ahem.”

“Go on,” said the uncle, coolly, “don’t be ashamed, Harry; I was nearly as great a scoundrel in that business as he was.  I told you before that I look upon the world as one great pigeon, which every man who can, without exposing, himself, is obliged to pluck.  Now, in the matter of the farm, I only was about to pluck out a feather or two to put in my own nest—­or yours, if you had stood it.”