Now Mick was the huntsman, and this little tale of eulogy from Larry
went far towards easing my grief. I had ridden well to the hounds
that day, and I knew it.

There was nothing more said about the shoes, and I was soon again at
my ease, although Miss O'Conor did say something about the
impropriety of Larry walking about in his stocking feet. The ladies
however soon withdrew,--to my sorrow, for I was getting on swimmingly
with Fanny; and then we gentlemen gathered round the fire and filled
our glasses.

In about ten minutes a very light tap was heard, the door was opened
to the extent of three inches, and a female voice which I readily
recognised called to Jack.

Jack went out, and in a second or two put his head back into the room
and called to me--"Green," he said, "just step here moment, there's a
good fellow." I went out, and there I found Fanny standing with her
brother.

"Here are the girls at their wits' ends," said he, "about your
dancing. So Fanny has put a boy upon one of the horse and proposes
that you should send another line to Mrs. Meehan at Ballyglass. It's
only ten miles, and he'll be back in two hours."

I need hardly say that I acted in conformity with this advice, I went
into Mr. O'Conor's book room, with Jack and his sister, and there
scribbled a note. I was delightful to feel how intimate I was with
them, and how anxious they were to make me happy.