light, and Tishy's dark bloom, and intent eyes of luminous grey,
faced the glare of October sunlight with confident unconcern.

"A right-down handsome girl!" he had called her, to himself, more
than-once; now, he thought, she had good looks enough for any man in
Europe. It was not his habit to betray his feelings; but as he sat
there, appraising her, weighing her beauty, as a jeweller might
appraise some rich-hued ruby that a kind fate had placed in his hands,
sheer pride in her made him smile, and he was hard put to it to keep
up the severity that he believed the occasion exacted.

"I've a couple of things to say to you," he resumed, "and you know as
well as I do that I've no fancy for saying things twice. I've seen Ned
Cloherty sneaking about the Mall very often lately--like as if he was
waiting for somebody. I'm not saying it's for you or me he's waiting;
you might know that better than I do. But he's no great ornament to
the view there, or anywhere else, as far as I can see!"

Tishy put her strong, rounded chin in the air, and said, "I suppose
other people have a right to use the roads as well as us!"

The Doctor was glad that his face was shadowed, as he noted the
arrogant tilt of her head, and the smooth, cream-white pillar of her
neck that it revealed, since the smile of paternal pride would not be
denied. He didn't blame Ned Cloherty to be sneaking about after her;
there wasn't her like in the county. But she very certainly was too
good for the likes of Ned Cloherty. "Now, Babsey," he said, and Tishy
knew that the old pet name denoted a satisfaction with her that might
not otherwise betray itself, "you're a sensible girl, and I needn't go
out of my way to tell you things that you're smart enough to see for
yourself. You're 'pert enough without Latin'--as they say! Well, I'll
just say one other thing to you, and it's this. Larry Coppinger's up
for this election, and I've told him to use this house, like his own,
as much as he wants to," the Doctor stood up and took a pocket-book
from the breast-pocket of his coat. "You're to make it agreeable for
him to come here. Mind that! And more than agreeable! I'll think very
little of you if you don't have him at your feet before you're done
with him!" he went on, selecting something from among the papers in
the pocket-book as he spoke. "There's not a girl in Ireland that
wouldn't half hang herself for the chance you'll have! And there's not
a girl in Cluhir but will be