“Your husband, is it?” inquired McKenna, realizing the joke that had been put upon him and fully alive to the awkward predicament in which he was placed. “Your husband? Sure, didn’t Con O’Donnel introduce ye as a single lady? Faix, but we are really in a purty kettle of fish! Tell me, is yer husband of the jealous sort? An’ do ye think that’s him, whose feet I hear makin’ such a racket over the path?” “Don’t stand here askin’ questions,” answered Mrs. McIntyre! “Oh, why did I fall in with Con O’Donnel’s wicked deceit? I might have known he would bring it about to punish me! He’s just gone and roused Danny, and I don’t doubt, if he catches me in your company, there’ll be murder done upon the very spot! My husband’ll shoot us both! Oh, that I should ever have been so foolish!” McKenna had more than once heard of Danny McIntyre, but without for a moment suspecting that he was any kin to the young woman with whom he had been walking, dancing, and making himself generally agreeable. “I’m jist of the mind to step out into the road and shoot that husband of yours before he has a chance to say a word or do wan single thing!” “For mercy’s sake, don’t talk that way!” whispered the lady, trembling all over like an aspen leaf. “We must not be seen! Here—get you behind this tree! The underbrush will hide me! Keep quiet until he goes beyond!” And, without a moment to spare, they disappeared from view. When the man passed their place of concealment they were as still as death. McIntyre carried a pistol in his hand, and was walking as rapidly as his mellow condition permitted, surging from one side of the path to the other as he moved, but finally, without discovering the fugitives, he was lost to their sight. When his heavy tread could no longer be heard, the couple stood again in the road. At least one of the two breathed more freely—and that was McKenna—when the husband’s form could no longer be seen. He had caught sufficient, while he was going by, to convince him that he was the identical personage who had spoken to his lady companion near Mrs. Breslin’s, and to whom Kate had, in his presence, refused recognition. The feelings of both had undergone a sudden revulsion. McKenna was very angry with Con O’Donnel, as well as with the woman who had assisted that person in playing such a practical joke upon him, and Mrs. McIntyre was naturally much mortified to be caught in such an embarrassing situation, being also fearful of the treatment to be expected from her husband should he reach home before her. With a cold and crusty “good morning, sir!” for the gentleman to whom she had so recently been saying all manner of sweet things, she added that she “could take a short-cut, with which she was acquainted, and, going across lots, make their mutual place of destination before Danny.” Then Kate took her departure.