He pointed out the way, and Harold trudged off to accomplish,
as best he might, five Irish miles over miry highways and byways
through the darkness of the December evening.

This was the young American's first practical experience of
boycotting.

It was nearly seven o'clock when, tired and mud-bespattered, he
reached Lisnahoe; but the warmth of his reception there went far to
banish all recollection of the discomforts of his solitary tramp.
A hearty hand-clasp from Jack, a frank and smiling greeting from
Polly (she looked handsomer than ever, Harold thought, with her
lustrous black hair and soft, dark-gray eyes), put him at his ease
at once. Then came introductions to the rest of the family. Mr.
Connolly, stout and white-haired, bade him welcome in a voice
which owned more than a touch of Tipperary brogue. Mrs. Connolly,
florid and good-humoured, was very solicitous for his comfort. The
children confused him at first. There were so many of them, of all
sizes, that Hayes abandoned for the present any attempt to distinguish
them by name. There was a tall lad of twenty or thereabouts,--a
faithful copy of his elder brother Jack,--who was addressed as
Dick, and a pretty, fair-haired girl of seventeen, whom, as Polly's
sister, Harold was prepared to like at once. She was Agnes. After
these came a long array,--no less than nine more,--ending with
a sturdy little chap of three, whom Polly presently picked up and
carried off to bed. Mr. Connolly, of Lisnahoe, could boast of a
full quiver.

There was a general chorus of laughter as Harold related his
experience at the railway-station. The Connollys had rested for