nd comfortable. She'll keep herself to
herself. There's two lone women in it now, herself and Mrs. Horridge.
Mrs. Horridge do be drawin' the water from the well behind the
Waterfall Cottage, and this Mrs. Wade kem out an' spoke to her. She
took great notice of Georgie. The schoolmaster's well contint with
Georgie. He takes to the Irish like a duck to water. The master do be
sayin' he's better at the language nor them that should be spakin' it
be rights. He'll have him doin' a trifle o' poetry in it by the
Christmas holidays."

"Oh! So the two lonesome women have made friends with each other.
Between them they'll be a match for Hercules' ghost," Sir Shawn said,
faintly smiling.

By this time Terry had joined his regiment, and Eileen had gone for a
time to her parents. She usually went home rather unwillingly,
complaining of the discomfort of the tightly packed house. Apparently
she did not add to the joy of her family during those periodic visits
and she made no pretence of eagerness about going. But this time, for
some reason, she was quite pleased to go. She even set about
refurbishing her wardrobe, and was not above accepting help from
Stella, who was very quick with her needle and possessed a
Frenchwoman's art in making excellent use of what materials came her
way. These preparations somewhat mystified Lady O'Gara, for usually
Eileen took only her less reputable garments when she went home,
because she had to live in her trunk, or share a wardrobe with two
sisters, who would hang their roughest garments over her evening frocks
if she were to bring them.

Lady O'Gara sometimes wondered if she had chosen wisely in selecting
Eileen from Anthony Creagh's quiverful to be her companion during the
years Terry was at school and college. The others had been tumbling
over each other like frolicsome young puppies when the choice was made;
Eileen had been sitting placidly eating bread and honey. She
remembered that Anne Creagh had said that Eileen would always get the
best of things! To Lady O'Gara's eyes, the demure little girl, with a
golden plait hanging down each side of her face, and the large blue
eyes, had looked like a little Blessed Mary in the Temple of Albrecht
Duerer.

Perhaps she had not chosen. Perhaps Eileen had chosen her, when she
said to Anne Creagh, "Dear Anne, you have so many girls. Lend me one
for company. I shall be very good to her and shall only keep her
during your pleasure."