et
of song. The dog lay on her side with one brown eye fixed on her
master. One of the big cats, which kept the stables free of rats and
made company for the horses in winter, came delicately and rubbed
himself against Patsy's blue hand-knitted stockings. Her eyes roved
enviously about, taking in the quiet peacefulness of the scene.

"I'll be washin' up for you before I go," she said.

"Sure I'm used to doin' for myself," returned Patsy.

"You've no wife?" she said; and looked down at the boy where he lay
back wearily in the straw chair.

"I'm a bachelor boy," said Patsy.

Her eye considered her host in a way that caused Patsy a curious
internal shyness, not altogether unpleasant.

"A pity," said she. "It would be a nice little place for a woman and a
child."

Then she straightened herself and stood up. She had made a very good
meal.

"I saw where the basin was in the scullery," she said. "Don't you
trouble. It's a woman's work, not a man's. You stay here and talk to
Georgie."

He carried in the tray when she had piled it with cups and saucers.
Otherwise he obeyed her. Better if that ruffian came back he should
find him talking to Georgie rather than helping the woman to wash up.

But Georgie was very uncommunicative. He seemed too tired to talk. He
too had not done so badly with the meal once he had begun. After a
while his head fell a little to one side and he slept.

Patsy sat where he was. He could hear the noise of water flowing
inside the house and the chink of cups and saucers in process of
washing up. Not for worlds would he have entered the house. He was
thinking strange thoughts. For the first time he was touched by a
woman, this poor, ill-clad, tramping woman, the wife of an evident
scoundrel, touched to the heart for her and her child. The happy,
pretty girls who had looked shy invitation at him had not appealed.
They had, one by one, put him down as a dry old bachelor and taken
their charms elsewhere. Patsy had never missed wife or child. He
would have said himself that he had enough to think of, with her
Ladyship and the Master and Mr. Terry, enough to fill his heart.

Not that he felt anything beyond an immense compassion for these poor
victims of man's cruelty. Perhaps with such a person as Patsy Kenny
compassion would serve for love always. "The creatures!" he said to
himself, "the creatures! Sure it isn't the hard ways of the world
they're fit for at all."

The w