ng afraid."

The horses were coming in a long string from the other end of the
paddock, whinnying and neighing, shaking the ground as they came. The
girl drew back towards the hedge.

"It's only rough love," the boy said. "Patsy Kenny can do anything
with the horses. They quarrel if he takes more notice of one than
another."

"They won't hurt your mother?" the girl said anxiously. "There she is
in the midst of them. Is it safe?"

"Quite safe. Nothing will happen to Mother while Father and Patsy
Kenny are there. What a frightened child you are!"

Miss Creagh's soft red mouth widened into a smile which had amusement
in it. She was six years older than the boy who called her a
frightened child. The smile was gone before he could see it.

"I'm afraid I'm rather a coward," she said meekly. "Father has always
said that it was absurd for a soldier's daughter to be alarmed of so
many things."

Terry O'Gara thought at the moment that it was the most beautiful and
appealing thing in the world for a girl to be frightened of many
things, when the girl happened to be as pretty as Eileen Creagh, and he
was the valiant youth who was to protect her from her terrors.
Although he liked the feeling of protecting her he fell in with her
suggestion that they should go back and talk to the foals. Miss Creagh
was certainly a coward, for she cried out when a horse showed any
evidence of friendliness; but when Terry suggested that they should go
to the garden and look for strawberries she did not fall in with the
suggestion.

"Let us wait for your mother here," she said, having gained the safe
shelter of the space between the palings and the gate. "You are sure
she is quite safe? Just look at her among those wild horses! There
couldn't be ... an accident?"

He laughed at her terrors.

"Mother was born in a stable, so to speak," he said. "She has a way
with the horses. But how fond you are of her! I am so grateful to you
for appreciating my mother as she deserves."

"She is an angel," said the girl fervently.

"Well, I think so." He laughed rather shyly. "It would not be easy
for a boy to have better parents. Father is quite unlike Mother, of
course ... but ... I have a tremendous admiration for him, all the
same. I'll tell you a secret. I believe up to this time I have wanted
more than anything else to please my father. When I had to work for
exams. I hated, or any stunt of that kind, when I--oh, I oughtn'