how a strange dwarfed Little Man came out of the hills in the East,
across the land, to the Western fastness of Black Brian, and there slew
that evil man, because of an ancient feud--slew him in a situation of
great indignity, and left him lying on the sands for the tide to wash him
out to the deep and hungry sea. Even here Patsy had his inspiration from
real life; and yet he disguised it all so well that no one except the
Young Doctor even imagined what he meant.

Under the tree Orlando listened with strained attention, absorbed and, at
times, almost overcome. His long sigh of relief was joined to the sighs
of the others when Patsy finished. The Young Doctor rose to go, and the
others rose also.

"That's a wonderful story, Patsy," said the Young Doctor to him; and he
added quizzically: "You tell it so well because you've told it so often
before, I suppose?"

"Aw, well, that's it, I expect," answered the Irishman coolly.

"I thought so," responded the Young Doctor. "Now, how many times do you
think you've told that story before, Patsy?"

"About a hundred, I should think; or no--I should think about two hundred
times," answered Patsy shamelessly.

"I thought so," said the Young Doctor, but before turning to go into the
house, he leaned and whispered in his ear: "Patsy, you're the most
beautiful liar that ever come out of Ireland."

"Aw, Doctor dear!" said Patsy softly.