"I can't for the life of me," said Blake, "make out what it is that has
set that old fellow so strong against horses. He won the Oaks twice
himself, and that not so very long ago; and his own son, Kilcullen, is
deeper a good deal on the turf than I am, and, by a long chalk less
likely to pull through, as I take it. But here's the Connaught man on
the stairs,--I could swear to Galway by the tread of his foot!"--and
Martin knocked at the door, and walked in.

"Well, Kelly," said Lord Ballindine, "how does Dublin agree with you?"
And, "I hope I see your lordship well, my lord?" said Martin.

"How are they all at Dunmore and Kelly's Court?"

"Why thin, they're all well, my lord, except Sim Lynch--and he's dead.
But your lordship'll have heard that."

"What, old Simeon Lynch dead!" said Blake, "well then, there's
promotion. Peter Mahon, that was the agent at Castleblakeney, is now
the biggest rogue alive in Connaught."

"Don't swear to that," said Lord Ballindine. "There's some of Sim's
breed still left at Dunmore. It wouldn't be easy to beat Barry, would
it, Kelly?"

"Why then, I don't know; I wouldn't like to be saying against the
gentleman's friend that he spoke of; and doubtless his honour knows him
well, or he wouldn't say so much of him."

"Indeed I do," said Blake. "I never give a man a good character till I
know he deserves it. Well, Frank, I'll go and dress, and leave you and
Mr. Kelly to your business," and he left the room.

"I'm sorry to hear you speak so hard agin Mr. Barry, my lord," began
Martin. "May-be he mayn't be so bad. Not but that he's a cross-grained
piece of timber to dale with."

"And why should you be sorry I'd speak against him? There's not more
friendship, I suppose, between you and Barry Lynch now, than there used
to be?"

"Why, not exactly frindship, my lord; but I've my rasons why I'd wish
you not to belittle the Lynches. Your lordship might forgive them all,
now the old man's dead."

"Forgive them!--indeed I can, and easily. I don't know I ever did any
of them an injury, except when I thrashed Barry at Eton, for calling
himself the son of a gentleman. But what makes you stick up for them?
You're not going to marry the daughter, are you?"

Martin blushed up to his forehead as his landlord thus hit the nail on
the head; but, as it was dark, his blushes couldn't be seen. So, after
dangling his hat about for a minute, and standing first on one foot,
and then on the other, he took co