pay double fare."

But they all with one consent, like the guests in the parable,
began to make excuse. One man's horse was lame, another's car was
broken down; the services of a third had been "bespoke." Few were
as frank as the man first engaged, but all were prompt with the
obvious lies, scarcely less aggravating than actual rudeness. The
station-master appeared, and attempted to use his influence in the
traveller's behalf, but he effected nothing.

"You'll have to walk, sir," said the official, civilly. "I'll keep
your portmanteau here till Mr. Connolly sends for it." And he
carried the luggage back into the station.

"How far is it to Mr. Connolly's?" Harold inquired of a ragged
urchin who had strolled up with several companions.

"Fish an' find out," answered the youngster, with a grin.

"We'll tache them to be sendin' Emergency men down here," said
another.

The New-Yorker was fast losing patience.

"This is Irish hospitality and native courtesy," he remarked,
bitterly. "Will any one tell me the road I am to follow?"

"Folly yer nose," a voice shouted; and there was a general laugh,
in the midst of which the station-master reappeared.