Love of Brothers

, "an' his father before him was a good dog. Yet I wouldn't be sayin

ike a daughter. When he had died it was by Lady O'Gara's wish that the dog was buried in the grass-plot just outside the drawing-room window. She could see the mound from the window recess, where sh

ot it always hurts me," she had said in early d

r husband often said, "fonder eve

e your place with Shot. But he accepted me

uppies in the stable-yard, just beginning to be cast off by Judy who had other things to do in a sporting Autumn besides

soft paws on the stairs, a movement under the dining-table, where he had been accustomed to lie in life,

id these sounds of a presence that was never seen. No one was any longer incommoded by it except young Shot, who would get up uncomfo

l never lave the Master

O'Gara, to whom he was

had

es and there was no human ear to listen to him. Then he would have a vision of a young man in a grey suit, slender and elegant, face downwa

ought, than Sir Shawn, being golden-haired, blue-eyed and ruddy, and very big and broad-shouldered, with a jolly greeting for every one. Many a time he had let Patsy hold his horse and flung him a sixpence for it. The peasants had no eye for the beauty and distinction of Sir Shawn O'Gara's looks, his elegant slenderness, the somewhat mournful depths of his eyes which were of so dark a grey that they were almost black. Too foreign looking, the people pronounced him, their

aybe because Miss Mary Creagh had always liked him better than Mr. Terence, though she was too much afraid of Mrs. Comerford, to say it.

oor and tumbled in "about the flure" in a fainting condition. He had queer hazy memories that the old man was kind, that the two little eyes which had often blazed fury at him, were dim with tears. He did n

the old Lady O'Gara had come to the cottage on the edge of the bog to ask for him. It had got out that Patsy had seen something of the terrible happening of

velvety eyes, the red lips. Even the country people did not deny Lady O'Gara beauty, o

nwilling to acquire, so he went in time to the stables at Castle Talbot to qualify as he had coveted for the hereditary position of stud-groom. Sir Shawn, since he had married Miss Creagh, had taken to keeping racehorses; and Patsy Kenny had a way with horses. He was a natural solitary as regarded his kind. Many a pretty girl had looked Patsy's way invitingly, seeing in him a steady, sober boy who might be trusted not to spend his wages in drink, whose dreamy eyes and soft slow voice promised gentleness with a woman; but Patsy never thought of the girls apparently. He was very fond of his master, but his great devotion was for Lady O'Gara who, as Miss Mary Creagh,

went week after week during the Spring weather, leaving Beragh station on their way to Liverpool with a great send-off from friends and relatives, ending,

tting. But by the time they were saying to each other that Judy Dowd had a right not to be spoiling her grand-daughter, making her pretty for the eyes of gentlemen; that what could a girl want more than Barney Killeen, who had a farm and an outside car, if he was s

shop, divided into two parts-one, general store, the other public. If you were a person of importance and called at Conneely's for refreshment you had it in "the drawing-room" upstairs, where the Misses Conneely's drawings in chalk h

n and had fortunes when the time came for them to marry. Their mother would never have permitted them to serve in the bar nor even behind the drapery counter. They were black-haired, rosy, buxom girls, who

ys been Conneely's Hotel in Killesky. If the old people remembered Julia Dowd's little public-house with its thatched roof, the low ceiling and the fire of turf to

Mary Creagh from her dying mother's arms, a child of a few weeks old, had reared her as her own and been tender to her, with the surprising precious tenderness of a reserved, apparently cold nature. Mrs. Comerford had gone to Italy and had

urs. He was very fond of sitting on a log or a stone between

n the stable-yard. Judy, a half-bred setter-the names of the animals at Castle Talbot were hereditary-was lying at his feet. The

ago. He contrasted her in his mind with Nora Conneely whom he had met that morning as he went to the post-office, wearing what he had heard called a Merry Widow hat, and a tight skirt, di

er used to say there was nothing against Bridyeen. I wouldn't have thought it of Mr. Terence either that he'd be tryin' to turn the little girl's head and he the Mistress's

raternity. The woman stood humbly in the wake of the man, and the boy kept close to her. The man was a bad-looking fellow, Patsy said to himself. Half-consciously he noticed the man's hands, wicked-looking hands, covere

n, with an attempt at jocularity. "'Ave yo

aordinary effect on Patsy. He hated the tramp, yet he felt a queer sick fear of him. Once, when Sir Shawn had taken him to Englan

e said gruffly. "You don't look a

were clean and mended. She had a shrinking, suffering air. The boy, who was about nine years old, seemed to cling to

ntle. He saw the glar

you," he said. "I've

the child might

's not in my way. I'll be back in 'arf a mo

n went, with the tramp's shambling trot, out of the stable-yard the way h