Joe Atlee was busily engaged in conning over and comparing these somewhat contradictory reports, as he sat at his breakfast, his chum Kearney being still in bed and asleep after a late night at a ball. At last there came a telegraphic despatch for Kearney; armed with which, Joe entered the bedroom and woke him. ‘Here’s something for you, Dick,’ cried he. ‘Are you too sleepy to read it?’ ‘Tear it open and see what it is, like a good fellow,’ said the other indolently. ‘It’s from your sister--at least, it is signed Kate. It says: “There is no cause for alarm. All is going on well, and papa will be back this evening. I write by this post.”’ ‘What does all that mean?’ cried Dick, in surprise. ‘The whole story is in the papers. The boys have taken the opportunity of your father’s absence from home to make a demand for arms at your house, and your sister, it seems, showed fight and beat them off. They talk of two fellows being seen badly wounded, but, of course, that part of the story cannot be relied on. That they got enough to make them beat a retreat is, however, certain; and as they were what is called a strong party, the feat of resisting them is no small glory for a young lady.’ ‘It was just what Kate was certain to do. There’s no man with a braver heart.’ I wonder how the beautiful Greek behaved? I should like greatly to hear what part she took in the defence of the citadel. Was she fainting or in hysterics, or so overcome by terror as to be unconscious?’ ‘I’ll make you any wager you like, Kate did the whole thing herself. There was a Whiteboy attack to force the stairs when she was a child, and I suppose we rehearsed that combat fully fifty--ay, five hundred times. Kate always took the defence, and though we were sometimes four to one, she kept us back.’ ‘By Jove! I think I should be afraid of such a young lady.’ ‘So you would. She has more pluck in her heart than half that blessed province you come from. That’s the blood of the old stock you are often pleased to sneer at, and of which the present will be a lesson to teach you better.’ ‘May not the lovely Greek be descended from some ancient stock too? Who is to say what blood of Pericles she had not in her veins? I tell you I’ll not give up the notion that she was a sharer in this glory.’ ‘If you’ve got the papers with the account, let me see them, Joe. I’ve half a mind to run down by the night-mail--that is, if I can. Have you got any tin, Atlee?’ ‘There were some shillings in one of my pockets last night. How much do you want?’ ‘Eighteen-and-six first class, and a few shillings for a cab.’ ‘I can manage that; but I’ll go and fetch you the papers, there’s time enough to talk of the journey.’