rward, following will-of-the-wisps, he should have been
indifferent. But he was not indifferent.

Meantime, she believed that there was no length to which she would not
go against him; she fancied that there was no weapon which she would
not stoop to pick up if it would hurt him. And presently she was tried.
A week had passed since the great fiasco. Again it was the eve of
Sunday, and in the usual course of things a priest would appear to
celebrate mass on the following day. This risk James was now unwilling
to run. His fears painted that as dangerous which had been done safely
Sunday by Sunday for years; and in a hang-dog, hesitating way, he let
Flavia know his doubts.

"Devil take me if I think he'll suffer it!" he said, kicking up the
turf with his toe. They were standing together by the waterside, Flavia
rebelling against the consciousness that it was only outside their own
walls that they could talk freely. "May be," he continued, "it will be
best to let Father O'Hara know--to let be for a week or two."

The girl turned upon him, in passionate reprehension. "Why?" she cried,
"Why?"

"Why, is it you're asking?" James answered sullenly. "Well, isn't he
master for the time, bad luck to him! And if he thinks we're beginning
to draw the boys together, he'll maybe put his foot down! And I'd
rather be stopping it myself, I'm telling you, and it's the truth, too,
just for a week or two, Flavvy, than be bidden by him."

"Never!" she cried.

"But----"

"Never! Never! Never!" she repeated firmly. "Let us turn our back on
our king by all means! But on our God, no! Let him do his worst!"

He was ashamed to persist, and he took another line. "I'm thinking of
O'Hara," he said. "It'll be four walls for him, or worse, if he's
taken."

"There's no one will be taking him," she answered steadfastly.

"But if he is?"

"I'm saying there's no one will be taking him."

James felt himself repulsed. He shrugged his shoulders and was silent.
Presently, "Flavvy," he said in a low tone, "I've a notion, my girl.
And it'll serve, I'm thinking. This can't be lasting."

She looked at him without much hope.

"Well?" she said coldly. She had begun to find him out.

He looked at her cunningly. "We might put the boot on the other leg,"
he said. "He's for informing. But what if we inform, my girl? It's the
first in the field that's believed. He's his tale of the Spanish ship,
and you know who. But what if we tell it first, and say th