“I’m afraid you must make up your minds about them soon. I have several people after them. Rooms are scarce now.” “I vote we take them,” said Himself. “You’ll have them properly cleaned up for us?” “Of course,” smiled Mrs. Slaney. “I am always most particular about cleanliness. You’ll want them in a few days, I suppose? I can set Mrs. O’Grady to work to-morrow, and I’ll have the curtains taken down and the windows cleaned. You could come in the day after.” Himself tried the door. “The locks are out of order,” he said. “They are,” Mrs. Slaney agreed; “but no one bothers about locks here. We’re all friends. I’ve always tried to keep that atmosphere in the house. We need no locks. Until this trouble began, there was not a more crimeless country than Ireland. The front door has never been locked at night since I came into the house.” “I should like these doors to lock,” I said sharply. “After all, I understand that the Black-and-Tans raid frequently. It’s not nice to feel that they can walk in without warning.” “We can find you keys, of course.” She soothed me like a child. “You’ll come, then, the day after to-morrow?” “I’ll look in to-morrow, probably, to see what I shall want in the way of odds and ends, and perhaps some of the luggage could come. The heavy stuff has been at the station all this time.” “You’ll like Ireland,” said Mrs. Slaney to Himself, ignoring my suggestion about the luggage. “You’ll find nothing but kindness in the South. You must go to the North for bitterness. It’s wonderful, the patience of the Southerners; they’ve suffered so much and so long. Eight hundred years! But at last it has burst out. It couldn’t be bottled up any longer. Your blood must boil at the wrongs of Ireland.” “I must hear all you’ve got to say later.” “Yes. I expect you’ll be more Irish than the Irish after a few months. It is always like that with the English who come here. Are you passing a pillar-box? I’ll get you to post a letter as you go out. It will save me a journey. I haven’t a stamp in the house, by the way; but you might perhaps put one on, and we’ll make it right next time.” CHAPTER V WE SETTLE IN Three days later we took up our abode with Mrs. Slaney. She directed our arrival. She was like a busy bird on several twigs. She did not seem able to keep away. The flat had been imperfectly cleaned; the curtains had been imperfectly put up; the window-cleaner had not come, but was coming at some date known only to himself; the door locks had not been mended. “There are one or two little items I’ve overlooked,” Mrs. Slaney said. “I make a small charge for cleaning the front hall. I allow Mrs. O’Grady a little extra for that; and there’s coal and light.” She looked at me uncertainly; but I was not prepared to do battle.