had money
enough to pay for the best which the Dublin markets provided. Next to
good food Lady Devereux valued peace and the absence of worry. Mrs.
O'Halloran enjoyed strife and liked a strenuous life. She took all the
annoyances of the household on herself, and when they proved too few for
her, created unnecessary worry for herself by harassing the maids. Lady
Devereux slept untroubled at night, rose late in the morning, found all
things very much to her liking, and grew comfortably fat.

For eight months of the year, from October till the end of May, Lady
Devereux lived in one of the fine Georgian houses which are the glory of
the residential squares of Dublin. It was a corner house, rather larger
than the others in the square, with more light and more air, because its
position gave it a view up and down two streets as well as across the
lawn which formed the centre of the square.

Before the war Harry Devereux used to say that his aunt's house was
the best in Dublin for a dance. It pained him to see its possibilities
wasted. After receiving his commission he looked at the world with the
eye of a soldier and gave it as his opinion that the house occupied
the finest strategic position in Dublin. There was not much chance of
persuade ing plump old Lady Devereux to give a ball. There seemed even
less chance of her home ever being used as a fortress. But fate plays
strange tricks with us and our property, especially in Ireland. It
happened that Lady Devereux' house was occupied more or less by the
soldiers of one army, and shot at with some vigour by the soldiers of
another on Easter Monday, 1916. Oddly enough it was neither the rebels
nor the soldiers who earned credit by their military operations, but old
Biddy O'Halloran.

Mrs. O'Halloran always enjoyed Bank holidays greatly. She did not go
out, visit picture houses or parade the streets in her best clothes. She
found a deeper and more satisfying pleasure in telling the younger maids
what she thought of them when they asked and obtained leave to go out
for the afternoon, and in making scathing remarks about their frocks and
hats as they passed through the kitchen to reach the area door. On
that particular Easter Monday she was enjoying herself thoroughly. A
kitchenmaid--she was new to the household or she would not have done
it--had asked Lady Devereux' permission to go out for the afternoon and
evening. She got what she asked for. Everybody who asked Lady Devereux