jacket, whose little feet, so stoutly and serviceably shod, kept
pace with his own over so many miles of pleasant rambles.

One day--it was the last of the old year--Miss Connolly and Harold
were strolling along a path on which the wintry sunshine was tracing
fantastic patterns as it streamed through the naked branches of
the giant beech-trees. The young man had a gun on his shoulder,
but he was paying little attention to the nimble rabbits that now
and then frisked across the road. He was thinking, and thinking
deeply.

He could not hope for many more such quiet walks with his fair
companion. She would soon have more efficient chaperons than the
children, who often made a pretence of accompanying them, but invariably
dashed off, disdainful of the sober pace of their elders. Before
long--next day probably--he would be handed over to the tender
mercies of Jack, who had constantly lamented the occupations that
prevented his paying proper attention to his guest. The heir of
Lisnahoe had promised to show the young stranger some "real good
sport" as soon as other duties would permit. That time was close
at hand now. The Emergency men had been at work for several days;
they were thoroughly at home in their duties; besides, the fat
cattle would be finished very shortly and sent off to be sold in
Dublin. Jack had announced his intention of stealing a holiday on
the morrow, and taking Hayes to a certain famous "snipe bottom,"
when the game was, to use Dick's expression, "as thick as plums in
one of Polly's puddings."

It was hard to guess then they might have such another rumble, and
Harold had much to say to the girl at his side; and yet, for the