“I am sure I don’t know; loaf round, I suppose, until it is time to die!” “And how did you like Mrs. Finny?” enquired Betty with a sly smile; “did she made you any sweet speeches?” “She made me _blush!_ a thing I have not done for years! Butter should be applied in small quantities, with a delicate silver knife, and not administered by the half-pound with a trowel. However, it pleased my mother.” “_Only_ your mother?” with merry incredulous eyes. “Yes, my sensitive nature, and highly-strung nerves----” “Your what?” she interrupted, and they both burst out laughing. Mrs. Malone heard the laugh, at the bottom of the garden--and was delighted to think that her handsome soldier son and her favourite visitor were getting on so well. At this instant the garden gate again opened with a clang, and admitted the graceful and vivacious Cuckoo. “George!” she screamed. “Oh! there you are; what _are_ you doing up the ladder?” “Looking for birds’ nests, as you may see!” “Cuckoo!” exclaimed Betty tragically, “it is not _possible_ that you are out in your new shoes?” “Yes, I’m in a hurry. I have something to tell George, something he would like to hear. Only he is so rude that I think I shall keep him waiting, marking time, as _he_ calls it.” “I rude!” he echoed; “my good Cuckoo, you are joking.” “Yes, you know you called me a little pig only yesterday.” “But of course I meant a _pretty_ little pig,” he rejoined as he carefully selected a nail, and drove it into the wall. “What are your tidings, fairest of the fair?” “A horse has come for you--such a beauty?” “By Jove, you don’t say so!” jumping down as he spoke. “Everything comes to him who waits!” “Yes. But I heard the man that brought him telling Knox, not to go near his heels, for he was a born devil, but that the Major wouldn’t mind _that_, and he winked; why did he wink, George?” “Where did he come from?” enquired her brother as eagerly as a boy of ten. “He is not an old friend, is he?” “He came from near Cousin Mick’s; he belongs to a man named Clancy--a tenant of his.” “Let us go and inspect him, instantly, Miss Redmond, that is if you care about looking at him; but any one who is so devoted to dogs _must_ be fond of horses.” Betty admitted the impeachment, and they hurried towards the house, whilst Cuckoo went shrieking down the garden: “Mother! mother! come and look at George’s new horse.” In a very short time, the whole establishment was collected on the lawn, surveying the recent arrival, with critical eyes. The Major with his legs very wide apart, and a toothpick in his mouth, carried on a whispered conversation with a pale-faced little man, in extraordinary tight trousers, now holding his head this side, and now on that, like a crow peeping down a marrow bone. Every male about the place, from the groom to the message boy, was assembled in solemn conclave, for is not every Irishman born into the world with “an eye for a horse?”