“Still, you were fond of poultry?” “No, I never wish to see another hen; but I do love flowers.” “I suppose you have no plans as yet?” Mary paused and looked interrogatively at Miss Usher. “I believe we are going to England soon.” “Never to return, eh, Mary?” She asked persuasively, with her head on one side. “I don’t know.” “I presume Lord Mulgrave has a London house?” “That’s more than I can tell ye.” “Because if so, my sister, Lady Barre, will call upon you at once. Will you come up to tea to-morrow? I’ll send the carriage for you?” Mary became scarlet. “Thank you ma’am, no.” “No?” she repeated, in a tone of angry incredulity. “You see,” said Miss Usher, coming to the rescue, “Mary is a little strange as yet, and is very shy and awkward.” “I suppose it’s only natural”--appeased. “Well, you won’t forget your old friends, will you, my dear?”--rising to go. “No, Mrs. Doran”--and she looked her in the face--“I won’t forget my old--friends.” Mrs. Doran returned the gaze with observant scrutiny--she read in Mary’s eyes, hostility and dislike. Evidently there was nothing to be made out of her; and presently she went rustling downstairs. As the carriage rolled off, the girl ran to the window and said: “To think of me! Offered a seat in that! I’d as soon have expected to be asked to take a seat on a throne. Well, there goes the last of Mrs. Doran, please God!” * * * * * The “Glenveigh Arms” was an unpretentious hostelry, standing close to the roadside, from which a narrow strip of gravel and a low laurel hedge divided it--a long, plain, whitewashed house, with nothing attractive in its appearance. Strangers little guessed how comfortable it was within, and what a really beautiful old garden lay concealed behind it. Motors whirled by in a cloud of dust and ignorance, making for a fine new tourist hotel some miles ahead. Mrs. Hogan did not approve of these “mad” cars, that went racking and tearing through the country, killing dogs and poultry and scaring the cattle out of their seven senses! and made no attempt to secure their custom. The word “Garage” was not advertised along with “Mary Hogan, Livery and Bait Stables.” All the same, about a week after Mary’s expedition to Lota, a smart bright red Mercédès car, containing four passengers, halted and palpitated outside the hotel.