Motor-cars are even yet far from common in the west of Ireland. They are not, for instance, used in elections as they are in England. There very seldom are elections in the west of Ireland; but even if these entertainments were, as frequent as elsewhere motor-cars would not be used in them. This is partly because the Irish voter is recognised as incorruptible, not the kind of man who would allow his vote to be influenced by a ride in an unaccustomed vehicle; partly because the west of Ireland candidate for Parliament is not rich enough to keep a motor-car himself, and has no friends or supporters who could lend him anything more expensive than a horse. Therefore motor drives are an unknown luxury to most Connacht men. Thady Gallagher, though he was a newspaper editor, had never travelled even in the side car of a motor-cycle. When Mr. Billing made it clear that he meant to go to the General’s birth-place in his large car everybody felt slightly envious of Gallagher, and Doyle wished that he had not refused to join the expedition. Gallagher himself was not elated by his good fortune. He was embarrassed and depressed. He cast an appealing glance at Doyle. “What am I to do, at all?” he said. “What am I to say to him when——?” “If you’ve any sense,” said Doyle, “you’ll take a good long drive now you have the chance. He doesn’t know the way. What’s to hinder you from taking him round every road within ten miles of the town?” But the prospect did not cheer Gallagher. He tried to grasp Dr. O’Grady’s arm as he passed him. But the doctor shook him off impatiently. He even attempted an appeal to Major Kent, quite vainly. The Major was still smarting under the rhetorical denunciation of landlords. He would not at that moment have gone a step out of his way to rescue Gallagher from drowning. The moment the motor-car was out of sight Major Kent and Doyle turned hotly on Dr. O’Grady. “What the devil do you mean, O’Grady,” said the Major, “by talking in this absurd way? You know perfectly well——” Doyle spoke at the same time. “It’s a curious thing, so it is, doctor,” he said. “It’s a curious thing that you’d be letting me in for £5 when you know the loss I’m in on account of you already. I’d have thought——” Dr. O’Grady interrupted them both. “Suppose you agree to split the difference,” he said, “and say £32 10s. for the filly. It’s a pity to see two men like you losing your tempers over a bargain.” “It’s not the bargain,” said Doyle, “that has my temper riz. It’s——” “Doyle can have the filly if he likes,” said the Major, “at £32 10s. I don’t want to go on wrangling about that. What I want to know——” “I’ll take her,” said Doyle.