use to warn him of any coming
danger.'

'And you mean to do this?'

'Of course I do; I feel an interest in this man. I like him. I like his
adventurous spirit. I like that ambitious daring to do or to be something
beyond the herd around him. I like that readiness he shows to stake his
life on an issue. His enthusiasm inflames his whole nature. He vulgarises
such fine gentlemen as Mr. Walpole, and such poor pretenders as Joe Atlee,
and, indeed, your brother, Kate.'

'I will suffer no detraction of Dick Kearney,' said Kate resolutely.

'Give me a cup of tea, then, and I shall be more mannerly, for I am quite
exhausted, and I am afraid my temper is not proof against starvation.'

'But you will come down to the drawing-room, they are all so eager to see
you,' said Kate caressingly.

'No; I'll have my tea and go to bed, and I'll dream that Mr. Donogan has
been made King of Ireland, and made an offer to share the throne with me.'

'Your Majesty's tea shall be served at once,' said Kate, as she curtsied
deeply and withdrew.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

O'SHEA'S BARN

There were many more pretentious houses than O'Shea's Barn. It would
have been easy enough to discover larger rooms and finer furniture, more
numerous servants and more of display in all the details of life; but for
an air of quiet comfort, for the certainty of meeting with every material
enjoyment that people of moderate fortune aspire to, it stood unrivalled.

The rooms were airy and cheerful, with flowers in summer, as they were well
heated and well lighted in winter. The most massive-looking but luxurious
old arm-chairs, that modern taste would have repudiated for ugliness,
abounded everywhere; and the four cumbrous but comfortable seats that stood
around the circular dinner-table--and it was a matter of principle with
Miss Betty that the company should never be more numerous--only needed
speech to have told of traditions of conviviality for very nigh two
centuries back.

As for a dinner at the Barn, the whole countyside confessed that they never
knew how it was that Miss Betty's salmon was 'curdier' and her mountain
mutton more tender, and her woodcocks racier and of higher flavour, than
any one else's. Her brown sherry you might have equalled--she liked the
colour and the heavy taste--but I defy you to match that marvellous port
which came in with the cheese, and as little, in these days of light
Bordeaux, that stout-hearted Sneyd's claret, in its