Bridgy, who saw no reason why she should face the wrath of Miss Blow, retired to a small room which opened off the scullery, and spent an hour cleaning her own boots. Miss Blow waited, and after a while got tired of waiting. She rang the bell again. Bridgy heard it, and, for greater security, went into the yard and concealed herself in the cow byre. Miss Blow came downstairs and found Jimmy O’Loughlin. He had not thought of hiding, and was caught unawares. “Is Mr. Goddard in the hotel?” she asked. “He is not,” said Jimmy. “It’s himself was sorry to go; but there came a messenger over from Ballymoy, a police sergeant, to say he was wanting, and wanting badly. It might be cattle driving that’s in it, or it might be a meeting about the land or maybe an eviction. They’re a queer lot down in them parts. Anyway, he was wanting, and he went.” “It’s a curious thing,” said Miss Blow, “that he went off without saying a word to me.” “Well, now,” said Jimmy, “if I amn’t the fool this day; but I thought Bridgy would be sure to tell you.” “Tell me what?” “The last words he said to me as he was getting up into the trap was these; ‘Jimmy,’ says he, ‘it goes to my heart to be leaving Miss Blow behind me, and her in trouble. She’ll never forgive me.’ ‘Believe you me,’ says I, striving to encourage him, for I could see he felt it, ‘she will.’ ‘She will not,’ says he. ‘Don’t I know she won’t?’ ‘She will,’ says I. ‘There isn’t a young lady ever I met with a better heart.’ ‘Will you tell her,’ says he, ‘that it was forced on me or I wouldn’t do it, not if you was to give me the full of my hat of golden sovereigns?’ ‘I’ll tell her,’ says I; ‘I’ll break it to her quiet and easy the way she won’t be feeling it.’ And, glory be to God, I have.” “You might have done it a little sooner,” said Miss Blow. “I might, and that’s a fact,” said Jimmy apologetically. “Where are the other gentlemen?” said Miss Blow. “The other gentlemen! Is it them ones that come in on the train? Did you not see them going by on their bicycles? They’re the most of the way to Pool-a-donagh by this time.” It occurred to Miss Blow that she had been deceived, tricked, abominably insulted by Mr. Goddard. She distinctly remembered the bicyclists. They had passed down the street almost immediately after the arrival of the train. It was quite impossible for Mr. Goddard to have had any serious conversation with them. She hesitated, on the verge of tears. Then the utter futility of weeping in the presence of Jimmy O’Loughlin struck her. She pulled herself together and, with prompt decision, settled her course of action. “Get the car,” she said, “at once. I shall drive over to Ballymoy and see Mr. Goddard.” “The car’s not in it,” said Jimmy. Miss Blow stamped her foot. “Get any car,” she said. “I don’t care whether it’s your own or another.”