She tramped off in her sandshoes to get my lunch, and I went into the sitting-room. The door opened suddenly and in bustled Mrs. Slaney. “Such an explosion!” she exclaimed. “I’m glad you weren’t hit. I was wondering where you were. Miss O’Farrell isn’t in yet. I hope she’s all right.” “Nice place to ambush,” I said, feeling aggressive. “The street was filled with perambulators.” Mrs. Slaney flushed. “I have no doubt the Sinn Feiners find it necessary,” she answered. “Why do the soldiers take advantage of the perambulators? They’ve no business to pass down crowded streets as they do. They do it for protection. They have no business in Ireland at all. Well, you’ve really been ambushed? You can write home to Australia now, and tell them all about it.” Another crash cut her sentence short, and she flushed deeper. “That seems to be in Stephen’s Green. Do you think that child will ever get home for her dinner?” “She won’t leave the office if it’s not safe.” The shooting stopped, and we went to the front door to see what was to be seen. There were people running all along the street, and the jarvies from Stephen’s Green had whipped up their horses and taken refuge in our direction. A tender of Auxiliaries drove slowly, the men in it looking this way and that for suspects. “Brutes! Blackguards! Threatening the people like that! I’d like to make faces at them!” “Please don’t while I’m here.” “Ah, but that’s how I feel. And our boys aren’t always responsible for the bombs. Three people told me that they saw the big ambush last night, and that the soldiers threw the bomb deliberately themselves.” “What for?” “So that they could have an excuse for firing at the crowd.” “Well, I saw the bomb thrown to-day, and they certainly did not throw it themselves. A bomb isn’t a toy, Mrs. Slaney. I shouldn’t think many soldiers would throw the bomb for the pleasure of ambushing themselves. The man that threw it this morning was standing beside me, and he fell flat on his face when it was thrown, and then he scuttled away among the babies and the perambulators.” She changed the subject. “When are you joining your husband? Mrs. O’Grady wants a holiday, so I have given her next week. You and I will be alone. Miss O’Farrell is going away for a few days at the end of this week.” “Really?” I made up my mind quickly. “I’m going away at once.” “Oh!” Her face fell. “I had pictured a nice little time together. I thought perhaps we could get our meals together. It would save you, and would be company for me.” “I’m afraid I’m going next Friday.” “Well, I must try to get some one. I can’t stay in the house alone. O’Grady isn’t much good.” She went slowly upstairs, and I remained on the doorstep watching the people grow calmer. While I watched Miss O’Farrell came hurrying home.