Connolly's.

This is what Hayes read as he sipped his coffee:

LISNAHOE, December 23d.

MY DEAR HAROLD: Home I come from Ballinasloe yesterday, and find
your letter, the best part of a week old, kicking about among
the bills and notices of meets that make the biggest end of my
correspondence. You must be destroyed entirely, my poor fellow, if
you've been three days in dear dirty Dublin, and you not knowing
a soul in it. Come down at once, and you'll find a hearty welcome
here if you won't find much else. I don't see why you couldn't
have come anyhow, without waiting to write; but you were always
so confoundedly ceremonious. We're rather at sixes and sevens, for
the governor's got "in howlts" with his tenants and we're boycotted.
It's not bad fun when you're used to it, but a trifle inconvenient
in certain small ways. Let me know what train you take and I'll
meet you at the station. You must be here for Christmas Day anyhow.
Polly sends her regards, and says she knew the letter was from you,
and she came near opening it. I'm sure I wish she had, and answered
it, for I'm a poor fist at a letter.

Yours truly,

JACK CONNOLLY.

The first available train carried Harold southward. On the way he
read the letter again. The notion of entering a boycotted household
amused and pleased him. He had never been in Ireland before, and he