taining sugar by false pretences."

"All right," said the General. "Its nothing to me where you get your
sugar."

Willie Thornton, much to his relief, was ordered to allow the Earl's car
to proceed, un-searched. The chauffeur, who was accustomed to be dry and
warm, caught a nasty chill, and was in a bad temper for a week. He wrote
to the Secretary of his Union complaining of the brutal way in which
the military tyrannised over the representatives of skilled labour. The
people of Dunedin felt that they had enjoyed a novel and agreeable
show. Lady Ramelton made a large quantity of rhubarb jam, thirty pots of
marmalade, and had some sugar over for the green gooseberries when they
grew large enough to preserve.

VIII. A SOUL FOR A LIFE

Denis Ryan and Mary Drennan stood together at the corner of the wood
where the road turns off and runs straight for a mile into the town.
They were young, little more than boy and girl, but they were lovers and
they stood together, as lovers do. His left arm was round her. His right
hand held her hand. Her head rested on his shoulder.

"Mary, darling," he whispered, "what's to hinder us being married soon?"

She raised her head from his shoulder and looked tenderly into his eyes.

"If it wasn't for my mother and my father, we might," she said; "but
they don't like you, Denis, and they'll never consent."

Money comes between lovers sometimes; but it was not money, nor the
want of it, which kept Mary and Denis apart. She was the daughter of a
prosperous farmer--a rich man, as riches are reckoned in Ireland. He was
a clerk in a lawyer's office, and poorly paid. But he might have earned
more. She would gladly have given up anything. And the objections of
parents in such cases are not insuperable. But between these two
there was something more. Denis Ryan was a revolutionary patriot. Mary
Drennan's parents were proud of another loyalty. They hated what Denis
loved. The two loyalties were strong and irreconcilable, like the
loyalties of the South and the North when the South and the North were
at war in America.

"What does it matter about your father and mother?" he said. "If you
love me, Mary, isn't that enough?"

She hid her face cm his shoulder again. He could barely hear the murmur
of her answer.

"I love you altogether, Denis! I love you so much that I would give my
soul for you!"

A man came down the road walking fast. He passed the gate of Drennan's
farm and came near