“All right,” said Mr Fanshawe, who, on second thoughts, felt rather pleased that the children’s innocent presence should lend a colour to the thing. “But mind and don’t breathe a word to any one; be in the big hall at two.” “We’ll be there,” said Doris, with the air of a conspirator. “Now I must go, lest any one suspects—there’s the dressing gong.” “So it is,” said Mr Fanshawe. He left the library and went to his room, where Patsy had just brought his hot water. “Everything is going on all right, Patsy, I suppose?” “Yes, sir; everything is fixed now, and Larry will have the yard strawed be wan.” “Right!” said Mr Fanshawe. “Have you heard of Paddy Murphy, sir?” asked Patsy, as he was leaving the room. “No—what about him?” “He rode into Castle Knock yesterday, on Con Cogan——” “On what?” “Faith, on me uncle,” said Patsy, “for Con’s me uncle, and a bad, black baste of a man he is. Con gave Paddy away, and Paddy cocht him an’ saddled and bridled him, so they say, and now he’s ridin’ him over the country-side, clane cracked wid the whisky. He rode up to the inn at Castle Knock yesterday, afther they’d chased him, wid Billy Croom’s coat on his back and spurs on and all, and he mounted on Con like a dunkey, and Con brayin’; and he pulled out a handful of gowld and stood trate to every man he met; and they say you could hear the hullaballoo at Castle Grange—the people shoutin’ and cheerin’ Paddy, and he mounted on Con, and ridin’ him up and down the street. Thin he bought two bottles of whisky, and off he wint at a canter; and they say he’s highwaying people and cuttin’ up the divil’s own shine on the roads.” “Good Lord!” said Mr Fanshawe, “are there no police at all in this country?” “They’re all beyant at the cattle dhrivin’,” said Patsy. “But, sure, a ridgment of police wouldn’t take Paddy whin the whisky’s got him.” “See here, Patsy,” said Mr Fanshawe, “I mayn’t have time to say it later on, if you get into any trouble over this affair, you know who’s your friend. And I’m going to take you into my service anyhow, but I’ll arrange all that later on, when the row is over. Here’s a sovereign for you. I’m not going to give you any more at present, for you’d only be spending it on rubbish; but I’ll give you good wages when I take you on. And, see here, Patsy, you’d better get hold of that ear-trumpet to-morrow morning, when we are gone, and take the cork out. We don’t want the old lady to be deaf for ever.” Dinner was a most trying function. To have to sit at the same table with a man who has called you a hound is somewhat of a tax on the appetite, even though the man is your uncle. After dinner came a game of billiards with Uncle Molyneux. Coming out of the billiard-room at half-past ten, Mr Fanshawe heard General Grampound’s abusive voice. The old gentleman was saying: “You’ll tell the groom to be here to time, so as to allow two hours for getting to the station, and the luggage-cart had better be here at six sharp.”