The lapse of a very few days generally cools down the ferment occasioned by matters of this kind, especially when public curiosity is found to be at fault in developing the whole train of circumstances connected with them.  All the in-door servants, it is true, were rigorously examined, yet it somehow happened that Hycy could not divest himself of a suspicion that Nanny Peety was in some way privy to the disappearance of the money.  In about three or four days he happened to see her thrust something into her father’s bag, which he carried as a mendicant, and he could not avoid remarking that there was in her whole manner, which was furtive and hurried, an obvious consciousness of something that was not right.  He resolved, however, to follow up the impression which he felt, and accordingly in a few minutes after her father had taken his departure, he brought her aside, and without giving her a moment to concoct a reply, he asked what it was that he saw her thrusting in such a hurried manner into his bag.  She reddened like scarlet, and, after pausing a moment, replied, “Nothing, sir, but an ould pair of shoes.”

“Was that all?” he asked.

“That was all, sir,” she replied.

The blush and hesitation, however, with which she answered him were far from satisfactory; and without more ado he walked briskly down the avenue, and overtook her father near the gate at its entrance.

“Peety,” said he, “what was that your daughter Nanny put into your bag a while ago?  I wish to know?”

“Deed an its scarcely worth your while, Master Hycy,” replied the mendicant; “but since you’d like to know, it was a pair of ould brogues, and here they are,” he added, “if you wish to see them.”

He laid down the bag as he spoke, and was proceeding to pull them out, when Hycy, who felt angry with himself as well as ashamed at being detected in such a beggarly and unbecoming act of espionage, turned instantly back, after having vented several hearty curses upon the unfortunate mendicant and his bags.

As he approached the hall-door, however, he met Nanny crossing into the kitchen-yard, and from the timid and hesitating glance she cast at him, some vague suspicion again occurred, and he resolved to enter into further conversation with her.  It struck him that she had been watching his interview with her father, and could not avoid yielding to the impression which had returned so strongly upon him.

“I saw your father, Nanny,” he said, in as significant and dry a tone as possible.

“Did you, sir?” said she; and he remarked that while uttering the words, she again colored deeply and did not raise her eyes to his face.

“Yes,” he replied; “but he did not bear out what you said—­he had no pair of shoes in his bag.”

“Did you see what he had in it, Master Hycy?”

“Why,” said he, “a—­hem—­a—­a—­I didn’t look—­but I’ll tell you what, Nanny, I think you look as if you were in possession of some secret.  I say so, and don’t imagine you can for a moment impose upon me.  I know what your father had in his bag.”