"Not a one, sir, only two," was the reply. "The first was a neighbouring
man from Killeen that was after giving himself a great cut with a
reaping-hook where he was cutting a few thorns out of the hedge for to
stop a gap where the cows did be coming into his oatfield. Sure I told
him you wouldn't be in this long time, and he went to Cloran to bandage
him up."

"And who was the other, Mamie?"

"The second first, sir, was a decent woman, Mrs. Cloherty, from Cranagh,
with a sore eye she has where she was cuttin' potatoes and a bit flew up
and hot it, and she's after going to the Friars at Loughrea to get a rub
off the blessed cross, but it did no good after."

The old woman rambled on, but the Doctor gave her but a divided
attention. He laughed and blushed a little presently to find himself
gazing in the small round mirror that hung against the wall, his
altitude of six feet just bringing his head to its level. The face that
laughed and blushed back at him was a pleasant one: frank, blue eyes and
a square brow surmounted by wavy fair hair were reflected, and the glad
healthfulness of four-and-twenty years. He had been looked on as a
"well-looking" man in his small social circle of Galway and Dublin, and
had laughed and joked and danced with the girls he had met at merry
gatherings, but without ever having given a preference in thought to one
above another. Certainly no eyes had ever followed him into his solitude
as the dark ones first seen to-day were doing.

He went out presently, the rain having ceased, and sauntered down the
unattractive "Main Street" of Cloon.