a little shy, a little proud, but altogether adoring, serves her for
courage and for inspiration, and she feels that his hand is holding
hers across the distance, in a clasp that promises strength.

At five o'clock we longed to ring for hot water, but did not dare.
Even at six there was no sound of life in the cosy inn which we have
named The Cromwell Arms ('Mrs. Duddy, Manageress; Comfort,
Cleanliness, Courtesy; Night Porter; Cycling Shed'). From seven to
half-past we read pages and pages of delicious history and legend,
and decided to go from Cappoquin to Youghal by steamer, if we could
possibly reach the place of departure in time. At half-past seven
we pulled the bell energetically. Nothing happened, and we pulled
again and again, discovering at last that the connection between the
bell-rope and the bell-wire had long since disappeared, though it
had been more than once established with bits of twine, fishing-
line, and shoe laces. Francesca then went across the hall to
examine her methods of communication, and presently I heard a
welcome tinkle, and another, and another, followed in due season by
a cheerful voice, saying, "Don't desthroy it intirely, ma'am; I'll
be coming direckly." We ordered jugs of hot water, and were told
that it would be some time before it could be had, as ladies were
not in the habit of calling for it before nine in the morning, and
as the damper of the kitchen-range was out of order. Did we wish it
in a little canteen with whisky and a bit of lemon-peel, or were we
afther wantin' it in a jug? We replied promptly that it was not the
hour for toddy, but the hour for baths, with us, and the decrepit
and very sleepy night porter departed to wake the cook and build the
fire; advising me first, in a friendly way, to take the hearth brush
that was 'kapin' the windy up, and rap on the wall if I needed
annything more.' At eight o'clock we heard the porter's shuffling