t
men wasn't good to them."

"I've heard you say the same yourself, Mr. Kenny," said Susan Horridge,
over the half-door of whose lodge he was leaning. He often paid Susan
a visit in this uncomfortable fashion, refusing a chair in the kitchen
or even one outside.

"So you have," Patsy acknowledged, and made as if to go; but lingered
to ask what Mrs. Horridge thought of Miss Stella.

"I like fair hair best myself," he said, with a shy glance at Susan's
hair, neatly braided around a face that began to have soft, even plump,
contours once more.

"Miss Eileen has a lovely head of hair," Susan acknowledged.

"And yet," said Patsy, "Miss Stella's my choice. Did you ever take
notice of her side-face? It's the purtiest, softest thing I ever seen.
I think I seen somethin' like it wance, but where I disremimber."

"Which of the young ladies is Mr. Terry sweet on, Mr. Kenny?"

"Bedad, I don't know, ma'am." Patsy scratched his head. "I wouldn't
be sure he's not sweet on the two o' them."

A day came when the two girls, crossing the fields by a short cut,
found themselves face to face with a very fine bull. They had not
noticed him till they came quite near him. Their path wound round by a
little wood which, since it belonged to the paddock of the mares, was
surrounded by high hurdles. The bull must have broken into the field,
for he had no right to be there. The piece of rope hanging from his
neck showed that he had escaped from bondage.

The path curved gently by the edges of the coppice. They came upon the
bull unawares. He was grazing when they first saw him, his fine curled
head half-buried in the long grass.

"It is Brady's bull," Eileen said in a whisper. "He is not to be
trusted. And--he sees your red cloak."

The bull lifted his head and stared at them. Eileen had slipped behind
Stella and had begun to retreat backwards.

The bull stamped with his foot and emitted a low roar. Stella did not
seem to feel afraid. She kept her eye steadily on the bull. The day
was chilly and Lady O'Gara had wrapped the girls up in Connemara cloaks
of red and blue flannel. She had put the blue one about Eileen's
shoulders, remarking that it matched her eyes.

"Run, Eileen, run," Stella said quietly without taking her eyes from
the bull. "Keep the gate open for me."

Eileen ran with a will, never looking back to see what was happening.

Stella took off the red cloak. The bull had put his head to the earth
as