“The real trouble,” put in Jack, “is that Patrick O’Grady doesn’t know whether he’s been _selling_ pigs or, buying them, and Paddy doesn’t know whether she’s been _buying_ pigs or selling them. For the last two hours they’ve been doing both in a sort of cycle, and now they’re left with fifteen on their hands, and we want a Solomon to say who they belong to,” and he exploded again. “If you don’t shut up, Jack—I’ll—I’ll throw a pig at your head,” said Paddy furiously. “And I offered to help you drive them home,” in an aggrieved voice. “I’ll help instead,” volunteered Lawrence. “I’m a positive genius at pig-driving.” “Or I could take them to The Ghan House on my way back,” said Patrick cheerfully. “But they’re not mine, I tell you. I don’t want the things. What in the world could I do with fifteen pigs?” “They certainly wouldn’t be very nice in your bedroom, and I don’t see where else you could hide them,” put in Jack. “Come, what’s it all about?—don’t mind him,” as Paddy again looked furiously at her tormentor. “Perhaps I can help?” Wherewith, turning her back on the delinquent, who continued to chuckle audibly, Paddy related the history of the fifteen pigs, and the Gordian knot she and Patrick had managed to tie between them. Lawrence had a good laugh—not the least at Paddy’s mystified air as to whether she had bought the pigs or not—and then he nobly offered to solve the difficulty by taking them off her hands. “You can take them to the Mourne Lodge farm,” he told the no less bewildered Patrick, “and call for the money in the morning.” Paddy was instantly all smiles. “And don’t forget my commission, Pat!” she cried. “Your commission was for _selling_,” was Jack’s parting shot. “You _bought_ these, so you can’t claim it.” “Let’s all go and have coffee at the café,” suggested Lawrence. And ten minutes later Paddy and Jack were again chuckling uproariously over the relation of the whole episode from first to last. And it was then that Paddy, under the spell of a certain sense of gratitude, decided Lawrence was very nice when he liked, and, of course, if Eileen was growing to care for him, and thought she would be happy with him, it was no use worrying about things. It was, of course, too much to expect that Lawrence could do other than love Eileen if she would let him. CHAPTER IX Concerning a Supper-Dance. As the date fixed for the great dance drew near, no other topic of conversation was of any real interest. Even the two little ladies at the Parsonage got quite excited over it, and confided to Paddy and Eileen one afternoon, that they were each having new dresses on purpose. “Oh! how splendid!” Paddy cried ecstatically; “do tell us what they are like.” “Black silk,” said Miss Jane. “And Honiton lace,” added Miss Mary. “Lovely!” cried Paddy. “I am certain you will be the belles of the ball. No one will look at Eileen and me.”