“We oughtn’t to ask him,” said Sir James. “Surely, Molly, you must understand that. It would be an act of gross disloyalty on his part, disloyalty to his union, to the cause of labour. And any effort we make to persuade him---- My dear Molly, the right of collective bargaining which lies at the root of all strikes----” Molly ignored Sir James and turned to the engine driver. “Just you wait here five minutes,” she said, “till I get someone who knows how to talk to you.” She jumped out of the carriage and ran down the railway embankment. Sir James and the engine driver watched her anxiously. “I wouldn’t wonder,” said Michael, “but it might be my wife she’s after.” He was quite right. Five minutes later, Molly and the engine driver’s wife were climbing the embankment together. “I don’t see,” said Sir James, “what your wife has to do with the matter.” “By this time to-morrow,” said Michael, “you will see; if so be you’re married by then, which is what Miss Molly said you will be.” His wife, with Molly after her, climbed into the carriage. “Michael,” she said, “did the young lady tell you she’s to be married to-morrow?” “She did tell me,” he said, “and I’m sorry for her. But what can I do? If I was to take that engine into Dunadea they’d call me a blackleg the longest day ever I lived.” “I’d call you something a mighty deal worse if you don’t,” said his wife. “You and your strikes! Strikes, Moyah! And a young lady wanting to be married!” Michael turned apologetically to Sir James. “Women does be terrible set on weddings,” he said, “and that’s a fact.” “That’ll do now, Michael,” said Molly; “stop talking and put the two bikes on the tender, and poke up your old fires or what ever it is you do to make your engine go.” “Molly,” said Sir James, when Michael and his wife had left the carriage, “I’ve drawn up a note for the Prime Minister advising the establishment of a special Ministry of Strikes for Ireland. I feel that the conditions in this country are so peculiar that our London office cannot deal with them. I think perhaps I’d better suggest that he should put you at the head of the new office.” “Your visit to Ireland is doing you good already,” said Molly. “You’re developing a sense of humour.” III. THE FACULTY OF MEDICINE Dr. Farelly, Medical Officer of Dunailin, volunteered for service with the R.A.M.C. at the beginning of the war. He had made no particular boast of patriotism. He did not even profess to be keenly interested in his profession or anxious for wider experience. He said, telling the simple truth, that life at Dunailin was unutterably dull, and that he welcomed war--would have welcomed worse things--for the sake of escaping a monotony which was becoming intolerable.