He was wheeling the two bicycles out of the station, and was followed by the obviously reluctant Mr. Sanders. “Richard, Richard!” said his wife. Mr. Dick paused and looked round. “Have you got your sandwiches? Don’t go without your sandwiches. I’m sure they’re in my hold-all.” But Mr. Dick patted his coat pocket triumphantly. He had the sandwiches. He was not the kind of man, so his attitude suggested, the feeble and inefficient kind of man, who goes off without his sandwiches. A moment later, having compelled Mr. Sanders to mount, he was cycling gaily down the road towards Clonmore. “Richard, Richard!” shouted his wife again. But it was too late. Her voice did not reach him. “I’m sure,” she said, turning to Mr. Goddard, “that he doesn’t know the way. He has never been here before. He’ll get lost. Whatever are we to do?” Mr. Goddard consoled her. He pointed out that Mr. Dick had started in the right direction; that it was generally possible to make inquiries when in doubt; that, as a matter of fact, once clear of Clonmore, there was only one road on which anybody could ride a bicycle, and that it led straight to Pool-a-donagh. Miss Farquharson helped to reassure her. “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” she said sententiously. “Do stop him,” said Mrs. Dick. “You must stop him. He’s got my pocket-handkerchief in his pocket. I gave it to him to keep for me in the train.” “I can’t,” said Mr. Goddard. “He’s gone. He’s out of sight. Even if he wasn’t, I don’t think that I could stop him. But I can lend you a pocket-handkerchief. I have two. This one is quite clean.” Then came the business of packing the ladies and their belongings on the cars. Mr. Goddard, after consultation with the station master and a porter, gave all the luggage to the driver of Patsy Devlin’s grey pony. Jimmy O’Loughlin’s mare was the more likely of the two animals to reach Pool-a-donagh, and the station master pointed out that if there were to be a break down it would be better for the ladies to arrive without their luggage than for the luggage to arrive while the ladies were left on the side of the road. Mrs. Dick, recovering her spirits, insisted on carrying out her plan of sitting on the well of the car. There was a small crowd outside the railway station, which watched with reverent wonder her climbing and wriggling. She waved both hands to Mr. Goddard as soon as she had settled herself comfortably, and was very nearly thrown off the car when the mare started with a jerk. Afterwards she clung to Miss Farquharson and Mrs. Sanders, who sat one on each side of her.