There was a general chorus of laughter as Harold related his experience at the railway-station. The Connollys had rested for several days under the ban of the most rigid boycott, and had become used to small discomforts. They faced the situation bravely, and turned all such petty troubles into jest; but the American was sorely disquieted to learn that there was only one servant in the house--an old man who for many years had blacked boots and cleaned knives for the family, and who had refused to crouch to heel under the lash of the boycott. Harold stammered an apology for his unseasonable visit, but Jack cut him short. “Nonsense, man; the more the merrier. We’re glad to have you, and if you can rough it a bit you won’t find it half bad fun.” “Oh, I don’t mind, I’m sure,” said Harold; “only I’m afraid you’d rather have your house to yourselves at such a time as this.” “Not we. Why, we expect some Emergency men down here in a few days. We’ll treat you as the advance guard; we’ll set you to work and give you your grub the same as an Emergency man.” “What is an Emergency man?” inquired Harold. “Those Chesterfieldian drivers at the station seemed to think it was the worst name they could call me.” A hearty laugh went round the circle. “If they took ye for an Emergency man, it’s small wonder they were none too swate on ye,” observed Mr. Connolly. “But what does it mean?” asked the New-Yorker. “Well,” began the old gentleman, “there’s good and bad in this world of ours. When tenants kick and labourers clare out, an’ a boycott’s put on a man, they’d lave yer cattle to die an’ yer crops to rot for all they care. It’s what they want. Well, there happens to be a few dacent people left in Ireland yet, and they have got up an organization they call the Emergency men; they go to any part of the country and help out people that have been boycotted through no fault of their own--plough their fields or reap their oats or dig their potatoes, an’ generally knock the legs out from under the boycott. It stands to reason that the blackguards in these parts hate an Emergency man as the divil hates holy water; but ye may take it as a compliment that ye were mistook for one, for all that.” Here Dick thrust his head into the door of the large library, in which the party was assembled. “Dinner is served, my lords and ladies,” he cried; and there was a general movement toward the dining-room. “No ceremony here, my boy,” laughed Jack, as he led Harold across the hall. “I’ll be your cavalier and show you the way. The girls are in the kitchen, I suppose.”