site,'" Lucy read. "'His bride was a Cork lady, but of the country, not
of the city. Spenser provokingly asks:

"'Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see
So fayre a creature in your town before?
Her goodlie eyes, like sapphyres shining bright;
Her forehead, ivory white,
Her lips like cherries charming men to byte.'"

"Well," remarked Chester as they drove homeward, and he thought he was
brave in doing so. "I don't know about the merchants' daughters of Cork,
but I know a minister's daughter of Kansas City, Missouri, U.S.A., who
tallies exactly with Spenser's description."

"Why, Mr. Lawrence!"

"I might say more," he persisted, "were it not for some foolish promises
I made that same minister a few days ago--but here we are. Where shall
we go after lunch?"

"I thought we were to go to Blarney Castle."

"Sure. I had forgotten. That's where the Blarney Stone is?"

"Sure," repeated the girl mischievously.

So that afternoon they set out. It was but a short distance by train
through an interesting country. Lucy was the guide again.

"Do you have an Irish language?" asked Chester. "I heard some natives