SPANISH GOLD 
 
 . H E SEARCH PAR;. ; 
 
 in PI .. 
 
 : MAJORiS . ... i - i
 

 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE
 
 UNIFORM EDITION of the WORKS of 
 
 G. A. BIRMINGHAM 
 
 Each, 
 
 LALAGE'S LOVERS 
 SPAN I S H GOLD 
 THE SEARCH PARTY 
 THE SIMPKINS PLOT 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 BY 
 
 G. A. BIRMINGHAM 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SPANISH GOLD," " LALAGE'S LOVERS," 
 " THE SEARCH PARTY," ETC. 
 
 HODDER & STOUGHTON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 To A. S. H. 
 
 MY DEAR A., 
 
 You know how sharply and how frequently I am 
 snubbed on account of the things which appear in 
 my novels. You know how much I suffer and you 
 know how little I deserve it. Will you defend me? 
 
 While this story was appearing in the pages of 
 Cornhill I found myself more than once in a painful 
 position. I told you, I think, about the lady who ex- 
 pressed her anger so cruelly that I was ill for a week 
 after seeing her actually in bed with a horrible 
 pain. The doctor gave the pain a Greek name, but 
 he was mistaken. You and I know that it was sim- 
 ply a broken heart. I did not tell you about the gen- 
 tleman who wrote to me on behalf of the Parents' 
 Educational Union, and told me that its members 
 " are all united in a passionate desire to give every 
 chance of well-being, to their children." He said 
 also and I felt this particularly keenly that the 
 children of these parents are quite familiar with the 
 lives of kings. It is the injustice of this which drives 
 me to ask your help. You know that J. J. Meldon 
 is a wicked man whose words and deeds I abominate 
 as heartily as my correspondent does. You know
 
 vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 that Mrs. Purvis appears in my pages as a parent 
 with " a passionate desire to give every chance of 
 well-being " to poor little Marjorie. You are a par- 
 ent yourself and you are most careful about your chil- 
 dren ; but would you, could you, have done more than 
 Mrs. Purvis did? And how am I to represent, for 
 the encouragement of other good parents, the virtues 
 of Mrs. Purvis if I am not allowed to contrast her 
 admirable system of education with the loose, ill-reg- 
 ulated, and, I may frankly add, thoroughly immoral 
 methods of J. J. Meldon? This is what my corre- 
 spondent and, I fear, others like him do not see. 
 This is what the lady whose pruelty reduced me to a 
 sick bed and almost to the services of a professional 
 nurse does not see. Her grievance was not, I think, 
 J. J. Meldon's stupid remarks about the Parents' 
 Union, but other things which he said. Will you try 
 and explain, when you hear me threatened and at- 
 tacked, that this red-haired curate is the villain, not 
 the hero, of the piece, and that I must not be taken 
 as approving the indefensible things he says and 
 does? I shall be deeply grateful to you, dear A., if, 
 in your own inimitable and tactful way, you will do 
 me this service. 
 
 I am yours very sincerely, 
 
 G. A. B. 
 March 1911.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 2065723
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 rr*VrIERE are still to be found in Ireland several 
 A towns of great importance, in the opinion of 
 their inhabitants, which are twenty miles or more 
 distant from any railway station. These places have 
 a curious attraction for high government officials. 
 The less accessible they are the more eager Lords 
 Lieutenant and Chief Secretaries are to visit them. 
 Now that motor-cars are plentiful and fairly reliable, 
 the difficulty of getting to remote towns, which used 
 to be serious, is very greatly diminished. Cabinet 
 Ministers and errant Members of Parliament who 
 have no particular business in Ireland have taken of 
 late to bringing their wives with them on their pil- 
 grimages. This gives great pleasure to the native 
 inhabitants, and it should be reckoned for righteous- 
 ness to the ladies themselves that they always profess 
 a desire to benefit the towns they visit and to elevate 
 the standard of comfort of the people. We may 
 easily believe that these are their real objects, for no 
 other reasons for their visits are imaginable. Bally-
 
 2 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 moy, for instance, is one of these fortunate towns, 
 and no one would go to Ballymoy for the sake of the 
 scenery, which is uninteresting, or to play golf, for 
 there are no links. Nor is the society of the place 
 such as would be likely to attract great ladies accus- 
 tomed to the brilliant political salons of London or the 
 splendid festivities of Dublin Castle. 
 
 The district has in it one resident landlord, Major 
 Kent, of Portsmouth Lodge, and he owns only a 
 small property. He is a bachelor, devoted to the 
 breeding of polo ponies as a business, and yachting as 
 a recreation. The other landlord, Sir Giles Buckley, 
 who has a much larger property, lives in Surrey, and 
 employs a firm of Dublin land agents to collect such 
 rents as the government still allows him to levy on 
 his tenants. In the social life of the place he is of 
 no account. There is a Resident Magistrate, Mr. 
 Ford, spoken of generally as " the R.M.," who is mar- 
 ried and lives in a house which has been let to gen- 
 erations of his predecessors ; and will be let, no doubt, 
 to Resident Magistrates yet unborn. There is the 
 rector, Mr. Cosgrave, who suffers, summer and win- 
 ter, from bronchitis. His wife is a lady of many 
 sorrows, afflicted with difficult children, impossible 
 servants, and her husband's incurable infirmities. 
 There is a District Inspector of Police, Mr. Gregg, 
 who, like the Resident Magistrate, is designated by 
 the initials of his office and spoken of in the locality
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 3 
 
 as " the D.I." He has been married for about a year. 
 There is also Mr. Cosgrave's curate, the Rev. J. J. 
 Meldon. He is regarded as vulgar by Mrs. Ford ; is 
 liked by Mrs. Gregg, who is younger than Mrs. Ford ; 
 and enjoys the friendship of Major Kent. By the 
 actual natives of the town he is treated with a sort 
 of wondering contempt. They appreciate his easy 
 manners and friendly helpfulness; but they have 
 grave doubts about his sanity and speak of him among 
 themselves as a "decent poor man, though, maybe, 
 not quite right in his head." 
 
 So far, the upper classes. Next come the real 
 rulers of the town and neighbourhood, Father Mc- 
 Cormack, who has been parish priest of Ballymoy 
 for twenty years, and Mr. Doyle. Mr. Doyle is the 
 hotel keeper, the principal publican, the chief draper 
 and the largest provision dealer in Ballymoy. He is 
 the unanimously elected Chairman of all Leagues and 
 Boards. He presides at all the public meetings and 
 proposes all the resolutions of confidence in the Irish 
 Party which are required. The other inhabitants 
 take it in turn to second them and combine to pass 
 them unanimously with cheers. Mr. Doyle is, of 
 course, a strong Nationalist, and holds radical opin- 
 ions on the land question. He manages, however, to 
 live on excellent terms with Major Kent, who is a 
 good customer, and divides the task of local govern- 
 ment amicably with Father McCormack. Though a
 
 4 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 devout Roman Catholic, Mr. Doyle is on terms 
 close intimacy with the Rev. Mr. Meldon. 
 
 The lot of most Church of Ireland curates in Bal- 
 lymoy is dull, and therefore unhappy; Mr. Cosgrave 
 has been obliged to appoint seven or eight in rapid 
 succession ever since the failure of his health necessi- 
 tated the keeping of an assistant. Meldon is the first 
 of them who has shown any signs of settling down. 
 He is an exceptional man and has succeeded better 
 than any of his predecessors in adapting himself to 
 his surroundings. He lodges, as all the other curates 
 did, with the postmaster, and is looked after by the 
 postmaster's wife. She cooks chops for his dinner 
 on weekdays, and on Sundays adds to the chops a 
 rice pudding. She makes his bed every morning, and, 
 if nothing happens to prevent her, sweeps the floor 
 of his sitting-room once a month. With this accom- 
 modation Mr. Meldon is perfectly content. He has 
 no objection to dirt, and has a fortunate kind of ap- 
 petite which enables him to enjoy an unvarying diet 
 of fried chops. His habits are perfectly regular. 
 Except on the days which he spends with Major Kent 
 he appears at his lodging half an hour late for every 
 meal. His books (he has a large number of books) 
 lie about on the floor. His bicycle is kept behind his 
 sitting-room door. He has a white dog which sleeps 
 on the foot of his bed. It is called Maher-Shalal-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 5 
 
 Hash-Baz, conveniently shortened to Baz in address- 
 ing the animal directly. He explains to the curious 
 that this name, which is Hebrew, means Rending and 
 Destruction. It was appropriate to the dog in the 
 days of puppyhood when it used to eat, tear, and 
 worry hearthrugs, shoes, gloves, counterpanes, table- 
 cloths, and the lower parts of curtains. The post- 
 master's wife has from the very first greatly disliked 
 Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz. 
 
 It is Mr. Meldon's custom to walk up and down 
 the main street of Ballymoy on market days, and to 
 enter into conversation with everyone whom he meets. 
 He is on terms of intimacy with all the shopkeepers 
 and with almost all the country people who come to 
 do business in the town. He gives advice, freely and 
 earnestly, to everybody on any subject, from the treat- 
 ment of chickens with the pip and the proper way of 
 spraying potatoes to the making of a marriage for a 
 son or daughter. He always attends the Petty Ses- 
 sions Court as an interested onlooker. When the 
 law has been duly administered and the weekly batch 
 of malefactors handed over to the care of Mr. Gregg, 
 D.I., he usually leaves the Court House in company 
 with his friend Major Kent. 
 
 It was on one of these occasions, a Wednesday 
 afternoon early in August, that he noticed a look of 
 depression and worry on the Major's fajce. Being a
 
 6 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 man of quick sympathy and of readiness to help any- 
 one in trouble, he addressed his friend at once. 
 
 " You're looking," he said, " a bit blue to-day, Ma- 
 jor. Anything wrong?" 
 
 "There is not," said the Major " nothing that 
 you can cure, anyhow." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that. I have a great deal 
 of experience of life, besides all I've learned about 
 human nature in books. If you'll take my advice, 
 Major, you'll trot out your affliction, whatever it is, 
 and let me see what I can do. Has the chestnut filly 
 gone lame on you ? " 
 
 The filly to which Meldon alluded was an animal of 
 great promise for which Major Kent confidently ex- 
 pected a large price. She was therefore a subject 
 of considerable anxiety, and her health was [carefully 
 watched. An accident to her would have been a se- 
 rious misfortune. 
 
 " She has not," said the Major, " and I wouldn't 
 care a hang if she had." 
 
 " Something must have gone wrong with the 
 Spindrift then." 
 
 It was a natural inference. Next in importance to 
 the ponies came Major Kent's yacht, a ten-ton cutter 
 which lay at anchor in the bay below Portsmouth 
 Lodge. 
 
 " No," said the Major, " the Spindrift's all right."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 7 
 
 "Then unless that housekeeper of yours has cut 
 up rough suddenly or got some kind of fit I don't 
 know what's the matter with you. If it isn't the filly 
 and it isn't the boat, what is it ? " 
 
 "Mrs. O'Halloran's all right so far. What she 
 may do in the way of a fit later on, of course I can't 
 say. Up to the present I haven't told her." 
 
 " Major," said Meldon solemnly, " you're not go- 
 ing to be married, are you ? " 
 
 " No, I'm not. I I could find it in my heart, 
 J. J., to wish I was." 
 
 Everyone who was intimate with the Rev. Joseph 
 John Meldon addressed him by his first two initials. 
 Those who were not intimate with him spoke of him 
 behind his back as the Rev. J. J. 
 
 " You'd better come home with me and have a bit 
 of lunch," said the Major, " and I'll tell you the fix 
 I'm in. I don't believe you can help me nobody 
 can but it will be some relief to talk it over." 
 
 " ' A friend,' " said Meldon, " ' should bear a 
 friend's infirmities.' That's in Shakespeare, but you're 
 so miserably illiterate that you probably don't recog- 
 nise the quotation. I've often deplored the want of 
 some cultured and intellectual society in Ballymoy. 
 As a University graduate I can't help feeling myself 
 a bit isolated." 
 
 " You may get more of that sort of thing than you
 
 8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 want very soon. I don't say you will, for I'm not 
 sure yet; but you may." 
 
 " Anybody wanting you to take the chair at a lec- 
 ture on Irish antiquities?" 
 
 " No. Don't be an ass, J. J. Who'd lecture on 
 antiquities in Ballymoy?" 
 
 They reached the hotel and passed into the yard 
 where the Major stabled his cob while he sat on the 
 Bench in the Petty Sessions Court. The yard man, 
 who counted confidently on a liberal tip, wheeled the 
 dogcart from the coachhouse and harnessed the cob. 
 Major Kent and Meldon, seated side by side, started 
 on their five-mile drive to Portsmouth Lodge. For 
 awhile nothing more was said on the subject of the 
 mysterious trouble. Meldon discussed a case which 
 had been tried in Court that day. A woman had 
 summoned her uncle for breaking down the stone 
 wall which divided her farm from his. She believed 
 that he did so in order to encourage his heifer to 
 trespass on her meadow. The uncle had replied with 
 a cross-summons against his niece for threatening lan- 
 guage addressed to the heifer and followed by an 
 assault with stones and a stick. The case presented 
 points of interest, but Major Kent was inattentive 
 and made short replies to the curate's remarks. At 
 last he interrupted an able estimate of the amount of 
 perjury committed by the witnesses.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 9 
 
 "J. J.," he said, "you know all about girls, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " I do, of course," said Meldon, cheerfully drop- 
 ping the subject of the injured heifer. " I've been 
 engaged to be married for more than two years, and 
 for some time before that I was frequently in the 
 society of Gladys Muriel. There's not a turn or a 
 twist in any ordinary girl that I don't thoroughly un- 
 derstand. My own little girl is quite typical, only, 
 of course, better looking than most. In fact I 
 shouldn't be going too far if I described her as ex- 
 ceptionally pretty. Her hair is a sort of yellowish 
 colour, not exactly gold, but " 
 
 " I don't want to know about her hair. You've 
 told me all there is to tell about that little girl of 
 yours a dozen times or more. You've shown me her 
 photograph till I'm tired looking at it." 
 
 "All right. I'll say no more about her. But 
 kindly recollect, Major, that it was you who turned 
 the conversation on to the subject of girls. I was 
 talking about perjury until you interrupted me." 
 
 " I had a letter from my sister this morning," said 
 the Major. 
 
 " I didn't know you had a sister. Is she older or 
 younger than you? I have a reason for asking that 
 question." 
 
 " She's older."
 
 io THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Ah ! Well, now, putting you down as fifty years 
 of age, your sister is very probably fifty-five. I don't 
 want to be offensive in any way, and I am sure that 
 Miss Kent is a delightful person, but you can hardly 
 call her a girl, can you? When I said I understood 
 girls thoroughly I didn't mean you to think that my 
 knowledge extended to women of fifty-five. As a 
 matter of fact, having aunts of my own, I do know 
 something about middle-aged ladies; but I don't set 
 up to be an expert. I mention this because I 
 shouldn't like you to rely too confidently on any 
 advice I may give you in the case of your sis- 
 ter." 
 
 " I don't know what you're talking about, J. J. 
 I don't want any advice about my sister. If you 
 knew her," the Major grinned feebly, " you would 
 hesitate before offering advice about her." 
 
 " No, I shouldn't, not a bit, if I thought she 
 needed it." 
 
 "Well, you might not. I must say for you there 
 are few things you do hesitate about. Any way, my 
 sister isn't Miss Kent. She married an Englishman 
 called Purvis more than twenty years ago." 
 
 " Does she want a divorce ? or a judicial separa- 
 tion? I'm more or less up in the law on that sub- 
 ject. As a parson I have to be, you know." 
 
 " No, she doesn't. In fact the very reverse is the
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 11 
 
 case. She seems to me to want to go on a sort of 
 second honeymoon." 
 
 " Well, let her. I don't see any harm in that. In 
 fact I regard it as a very fine exhibition of proper 
 feeling in a wife. That sort of thing is rare after a 
 quarter of a century of married life. But perhaps 
 Purvis wants to get off the trip. Is that it? If so, 
 my advice to you is not to mix yourself up in the 
 matter. Let them fight it out together. There's 
 nothing so foolish as meddling in these domestic 
 broils." 
 
 " I wish to goodness, J. J., you'd stop talking for 
 one instant and let me tell you the fix I'm in. 
 There's no domestic broil of any sort. Purvis is just 
 as keen as Margaret is on seeing the continent of 
 Europe. That's where the trouble comes in. But 
 here we are at Portsmouth Lodge. You'd better 
 read the letter for yourself. That will be more sat- 
 isfactory than talking at cross-purposes in the trap 
 and my not being able to explain myself on account 
 of the way you keep interrupting me."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 PORTSMOUTH LODGE is utterly unlike any 
 other house in the neighbourhood of Ballymoy. 
 It would probably win first prize in all Connacht for 
 the best kept homestead if such rewards were offered 
 by social reformers for competition among landlords 
 and professional men. Nowhere out of England it- 
 self would it be possible to find gravel more carefully 
 raked than Major Kent's; ivy better clipped; fences 
 with more rigid wires; gates and doors which glisten 
 with brighter paint. The interior of the house is 
 quite as exquisite as its surroundings. The linoleum 
 which covers the hall is always slippery and on cer- 
 tain days in the week smells strongly of beeswax and 
 turpentine. No chair is allowed to remain long out 
 of its appointed place in any room. The Times and 
 the local paper, which supply the Major with read- 
 ing matter, are laid together folded into correct paral- 
 lelograms on a polished table in the study. Numer- 
 ous receptacles for tobacco ashes are to be found in 
 every room. Fire grates, even in winter when the 
 turf is blazing in them, are sacred from cigar ends. 
 The havoc occasioned by a visit from Meldon, a la- 
 mentably untidy person, is set right with sweeping
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 13 
 
 brushes and dusters immediately after his depar- 
 ture. 
 
 Major Kent inherits from his grandfather, the first 
 of the family who settled in Ireland, an English fond- 
 ness for neatness. It took him years to educate his 
 housekeeper, Mrs. O'Halloran, into a proper respect 
 for his ideas of household management. Being a 
 woman of strong common sense she had a great con- 
 tempt for her master's fads; but she yielded to him 
 and was compensated for the discomfort of the un- 
 natural kind of life she was obliged to live by the 
 pleasure she found in making generations of subordi- 
 nate hand-maidens acutely miserable. Fresh from 
 their pleasantly untidy homes, they could not under- 
 stand what Mrs. O'Halloran desired of them, and 
 suffered, not always patiently, in the effort to learn 
 the difference between a thing which is clean and a 
 thing which has been given a " rub over." 
 
 Meldon walked into the Major's study, kicking two 
 mats crooked on his way. He disarranged, before 
 sitting down in it, a deep armchair. He stretched 
 out his legs and put the heels of his boots on the brass 
 bar of the fender, a grave offence which would hardly 
 have been passed over without a hint of rebuke if it 
 had been committed by anyone except Meldon. 
 
 " Now," he said, " bring out that letter, Major, and 
 let me get at this mysterious trouble of yours."
 
 14 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 The letter, a long one, written closely over four 
 sides of a sheet of notepaper, was handed to him. 
 
 " It's written," said the Major, " from Melbourne, 
 but you'll see that my sister expects to be in England 
 by the time I get it." 
 
 " Thank you," said Meldon. " Your sister, I sup- 
 pose, lives in Australia ? " 
 
 " She does. She went out with her husband and 
 has been living on a sheep farm for the last twenty- 
 two years, in fact ever since she was married. This 
 is her first trip home." 
 
 Meldon read the letter carefully, spread it out on 
 his knee, and proceeded to give the Major an ab- 
 stract of its contents. 
 
 "Your sister," he said, "is coming home. She 
 proposes to spend a month or perhaps more in visit- 
 ing the capitals of the principal European states in 
 the company of her husband. That's all clear so far, 
 I hope." 
 
 " Yes," said the Major, " that's clear enough. I'm 
 not complaining of any difficulty in understanding 
 the letter. Margaret was always able to make her 
 meaning quite plain too plain sometimes." 
 
 " She brings with her a daughter, of whom she 
 writes as ' Marjorie,' and occasionally ' dear Mar- 
 jorie.' She intends to send this Marjorie to stay with
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 15 
 
 you here in Portsmouth Lodge, while she enjoys her- 
 self in Paris, Vienna and Rome. That, in a few 
 words, is the news which her letter conveys. Now 
 what is your grievance ? " 
 
 " My grievance ! My dear J. J., what am I to do 
 with a girl? How can I keep her here? I'm not 
 accustomed to girls. I am constitutionally unfitted to 
 deal with them." 
 
 " In my opinion, Major, you're an uncommonly 
 lucky man. Here you have pressed on you what 
 many men spend half their lives trying to get, the 
 companionship of a really charming, quite natural 
 and unaffected young lady. Instead of dancing with 
 joy as any ordinary man would, you go about with a 
 face as long as if the chestnut filly had thrown out a 
 splint." 
 
 " That's all very fine for you. You're accustomed 
 to charming young ladies. I'm not. Besides, how 
 do you know that she is a young lady ? For all Mar- 
 garet says in the letter she may be a baby in arms, or 
 a long-legged shy creature of fifteen. For the matter 
 of that, what ground have you for saying that she's 
 charming, natural and unaffected?" 
 
 " I'll take your points one by one, Major. You 
 ask how I know she's a grown-up young lady. I 
 don't actually know her age, but you said that your
 
 16 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 sister had been twenty-two years married, from which 
 I infer that her eldest daughter must be twenty or 
 twenty-one." 
 
 "How do you know that Marjorie is the eldest 
 daughter?" 
 
 " She must be. There may be an elder son, though 
 that's not likely. If there had been, your sister would 
 have brought him home with her instead of the girl. 
 But in any case, even if there is a son, Marjorie must 
 be at least nineteen, and a girl of that age is always 
 considered to be grown up. I say with confidence," 
 he went on in an explanatory tone, "that she's the 
 eldest daughter because she's obviously called after 
 her mother. If there had been an older one she'd 
 have been Marjorie, which is an abbreviation of Mar- 
 garet, and this one would have been Susan or Milli- 
 cent or something, else. That disposes of your first 
 point. Next, as to her being natural and unaffected. 
 She has been brought up, according to your account, 
 on a sheep farm. How could a growing child have 
 a more unaffected companion than a sheep? Your 
 niece has probably played with dear little woolly 
 lambs ever since she was old enough to play with 
 anything. She can't be anything else but natural. 
 You may take my word for it that she'll turn out 
 exactly like Lucy in Wordsworth's poem, who 
 * dwelt among untrodden ways, beside the streams
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 17 . 
 
 of Dove.' Ballymoy will be a metropolis to her 
 and a travelling circus a wild joy. As for her 
 being charming, that follows from her being perfectly 
 natural. Everything natural is charming. Besides, 
 she probably takes after her mother, and your sister 
 must have had a 'certain amount of charm or else 
 Purvis wouldn't have married her." 
 
 " She wasn't in the least charming," said the Ma- 
 jor. " She was what I should call dictatorial." 
 
 " You may not have appreciated her charm, but it 
 was there all the same. Otherwise, as I said, Pur- 
 vis wouldn't have married her. You must give Purvis 
 credit for some sense, Major. A man like that, who 
 has shown himself capable of making money out of 
 sheep farming, which is a difficult business, money 
 enough to go travelling all over the continent of 
 Europe, can't possibly have been such a fool as to 
 marry a woman who didn't attract him." 
 
 " Well, supposing you're right, and you may be 
 for all I can tell supposing she is all you say, that 
 only makes things much worse. What on earth 
 am I to do with a charming young lady of twenty- 
 one in a place like this? How am I to entertain 
 her?" 
 
 " Don't let that get between you and your sleep. 
 I'll entertain her for you. I'll be getting my holidays 
 almost at once, and I'll not go away except for a week
 
 i8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 just to see my own little girl. I'll stay here in Bally- 
 moy and entertain your niece." 
 
 " No, you won't," said the Major firmly. " I 
 couldn't, I simply daren't face Margaret if she heard 
 that I'd allowed the girl to spend the summer flirting 
 with the curate." 
 
 " She might do a great deal worse," said Meldon. 
 " But, as a matter of fact, I don't mean to flirt with 
 her. You forget that I'm engaged to be married. 
 I wouldn't flirt with anyone. What I propose to do 
 is to take her out for rides and get up picnic teas 
 and boating parties and play lawn tennis with her. 
 Don't you fret about her, Major. She'll enjoy her 
 time all right." 
 
 " I haven't a room in my house fit to put a girl 
 into. The place is furnished for men, not girls. I 
 don't even know what a girl would want in a bed- 
 room.*' 
 
 " A girl doesn't want anything particular. Give 
 her any ordinary furniture and she'll manage along. 
 I know girls well." 
 
 " I thought," said the Major, " that they might re- 
 quire long looking-glasses, and patent wire frames 
 for fitting dresses on to, and special lamps for heat- 
 ing tongs at. I know I've seen those things adver- 
 tised." 
 
 "She'll bring everything of that sort along with
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 19 
 
 her. She won't expect to have them provided for her, 
 any more than you'd expect to find a razor strop and 
 a trouser stretcher laid out for you in the bedroom of 
 a strange house in which you happened to be stay- 
 ing." 
 
 "Then there's Mrs. O'Halloran. I don't know 
 what she'll say. I am sure she'll object strongly. 
 Perhaps she'll leave, and then where would I be ? " 
 
 " If you're afraid of Mrs. O'Halloran, I'll tackle 
 her for you. Ring the bell and I'll do it at once. Or 
 wait, is there any point you'd like to have cleared up 
 before Mrs. O'Halloran comes in ? " 
 
 "Margaret says where's the letter? oh, yes, 
 there it is on the floor beside you. She says, ' Dear 
 Marjorie won't be any trouble to you. If you give 
 her a book and a quiet corner she'll be quite happy.' 
 Now I have no books that any girl could read." 
 
 " You have not," said Meldon. " So far as I 
 know you possess five volumes of Spurgeon's Ser- 
 mons, two books on horses, three on yacht building 
 and an old encyclopaedia. I quite agree with you 
 that no girl could read your books. But I'll bring 
 you out a couple of dozen volumes novels, you 
 know, and poetry. Gladys Muriel reads Tennyson 
 and any amount of novels. They're quite the right 
 thing for girls." 
 
 " I don't know," said the Major doubtfully.
 
 20 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Your books might not be the sort that Margaret 
 would like her daughter to read." 
 
 " If you think that I'm the sort of man who'd give 
 improper books to a girl you're utterly mistaken. As 
 a matter of fact I don't read books that have anything 
 objectionable in them myself, except the ancient 
 Fathers of the Church. But if you like, just to make 
 your mind quite easy, I'll write to my little girl and 
 get her to draw up a list of really suitable books, her 
 own favourite reading. That ought to satisfy you. 
 Now ring for Mrs. O'Halloran." 
 
 The housekeeper appeared. At first she seemed to 
 think that an untimely demand for luncheon was to 
 be made on her. 
 
 " It was only this morning," she said, " before you 
 made out after your breakfast, that you told me lunch- 
 eon was for half -past one. The chicken isn't in the 
 pot above ten minutes, and the potatoes isn't near 
 boiled, nor won't be for another half hour." 
 
 " That's all right, Mrs. O'Halloran," said Meldon. 
 " It isn't the chicken the Major wants. He quite 
 agrees with you that when a meal's ordered for one 
 particular hour, that's the hour at which it ought to 
 be. What he wishes me to speak to you about now 
 is something quite different." 
 
 " If it's Mary Garry and the way she has of drop- 
 ping her hairpins out of her head in the morning when
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 21 
 
 she does be sweeping out the study floor, let the Ma- 
 jor try and cure her of that himself. I'm tired talk- 
 ing to her. Many's the time I've said to her : ' Mary 
 Garry, the master'll be raging mad ; he'll face me, 
 and he'll kill you so as you won't know after whether 
 it's your head or your heels you're standing on, 
 if you drop them pins about the floor and you sweep- 
 ing it.' But 1 might as well be talking to the wind 
 or to one of them horses beyond in the field or to 
 yourself, Mr. Meldon, as to that same Mary Garry. 
 She's got the notion of America in her head this 
 minute, and she'll never settle down to a decent day's 
 work till she's off out of this, if she does then itself." 
 
 " It's not Mary Garry I'm talking about now," said 
 Meldon, "but another girl altogether." 
 
 " And what will the Major be wanting with another 
 girl? Isn't one enough, and wouldn't I rather work 
 my fingers to the bone cleaning and sweeping and 
 cooking and mending after him, than have the life 
 plagued out of me with another girl? What does he 
 want with another girl? Tell me that." 
 
 The Major had got the better of Mrs. O'Halloran 
 in so far as he had induced her to keep his house as 
 no other house in Ballymoy was ever kept. But Mrs. 
 O'Halloran, like every other woman who ever learned 
 to polish, had also learnt to tyrannise. It was small 
 wonder that Major Kent's courage quailed before the
 
 22 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 task of announcing the visit of his niece. Fortu- 
 nately Meldon was made of sterner stuff. Mrs. 
 O'Halloran's tongue had no terrors for him. He 
 actually enjoyed arguing with her. 
 
 "The Major doesn't want another girl any more 
 than you do, Mrs. O'Halloran. The point is that he 
 can't help himself. But the girl that's coming isn't 
 a fresh edition of Mary Garry. She's a young lady, 
 and we look to you to make her stay here pleasant 
 for her." 
 
 " The Lord save us and help us ! Is it a young 
 lady you're bringing down on the house ? " 
 
 " It is," said Meldon firmly, " a young lady of re- 
 markable charm and personal beauty. A young lady 
 who will come like a ray of sunshine into Portsmouth 
 Lodge and make all your lives brighter. You'll hear 
 her all day long singing her pretty songs as she goes 
 tripping up and down the stairs. She will have a 
 pleasant smile and a kind word for everyone. Even 
 Mary Garry will learn to look up to her as a sort of 
 angel in the house. You know that sort of young 
 lady, don't you, Mrs. O'Halloran?" 
 
 " Tell me now," said the housekeeper, in a hoarse 
 whisper, " is it the young lady that's to marry you 
 and the Lord help her when she does that's coming 
 here? For if so be that you've beguiled the poor
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 23 
 
 Major, who's as quiet and innocent as a child in the 
 house, into inviting her " 
 
 " Well, it isn't her. You may make your mind 
 easy about that." 
 
 " For if it is," went on Mrs. O'Halloran, " I may 
 tell you this. There'll be no carrying on between her 
 and you in this house while I'm in it. The Major's a 
 respectable man and always was, and I'm a respectable 
 woman, and Mary Garry comes of decent people, and 
 as for carrying on " 
 
 " Sorra the woman or the girl ever attempted to 
 carry on with me," said Meldon, " except yourself. 
 And hard enough I've found it to keep you at arm's 
 length more than once. If I wasn't a man of remark- 
 able strength of character, you'd have married me 
 twice over before now." 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran snorted with indignation and de- 
 light. She recognised in Meldon a man who could 
 get the better of her in a war of words, and she ap- 
 preciated him fully. 
 
 " But any way," he went on, " the young lady 
 who's coming here won't want to carry on with any- 
 one. She's the Major's niece, and her name is Miss 
 Marjorie Purvis." 
 
 "And who's to attend on the like of her? For I 
 won't. Maybe now you think that Mary Garry can
 
 24 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 be running after her all day, hooking up the backs of 
 her dresses for her and doing her hair." 
 
 "We leave all those details to you," said Meldon. 
 " Neither the Major nor I know anything about the 
 backs of dresses, and we're not barbers. But I'll just 
 say this, that unless Mary Garry learns to do her own 
 hair better than she does at present I'm relying on 
 your account of her, Mrs. O'Halloran ; I never noticed 
 her hair one way or other she'd better not lay a 
 hand on anybody else's. Just think how you'd feel 
 if you found yourself tripping over two lots of hair- 
 pins every time you put out your foot in front of 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran realised that she was not likely 
 to produce any impression on Meldon. She turned 
 to the Major. 
 
 " And will she expect me to be carrying up a cup 
 of tea to her in the morning, and her in her bed? " 
 
 "I don't know," said the Major. "Will she, 
 
 J.J.?" 
 
 " She will," said Meldon. " Every self-respecting 
 young lady expects that. A cup of tea and a slice 
 of bread and butter along with it, served on a small 
 tray with a white cloth spread over it." 
 
 "And how long," said Mrs. O'Halloron desper- 
 ately, " is the like of that work to be going on ? " 
 
 " Six weeks at least," said Meldon. " Perhaps
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 25 
 
 longer. But you'll be surprised how you'll get to like 
 it. What you and the Major want, both of you, is 
 some sweet and civilising influence in this house. 
 You may not care for the idea beforehand, but you'll 
 enjoy being refined enormously when the time comes. 
 Just think how nice it will be to have flowers settled 
 regularly in all the vases, and pretty little bows of 
 silk ribbon tied on to the antimacassars, and beautiful 
 embroidered teacloths made for use at afternoon tea, 
 and all the hundred and one little dainty touches 
 added to life which only the hand of a highly edu- 
 cated and cultivated young lady can bestow. I 
 shouldn't wonder a bit if she set to work and made 
 chintz covers for all the chairs in the house! You'd 
 like that, wouldn't you, Mrs. O'Halloran ? " 
 
 " I would not then. The covers that's on the chairs 
 this minute is good enough. But what's the use of 
 talking? Whatever is to be must be, surely; and the 
 thing that's before us is what we have to go through 
 with, be the same easy or hard. I suppose now you'll 
 be eating your lunch with the Major, Mr. Meldon?" 
 " I will." 
 
 " And you'll be wanting coffee or the like after it? " 
 
 " We will." 
 
 "Well, if so be there's nothing more to be said 
 about the young lady, I'll be getting back again to 
 the kitchen to see after the [chicken."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MELDON and Major Kent spent two hours 
 after luncheon making plans for the enter- 
 tainment of Miss Marjorie Purvis. The Major 
 agreed to rail off a portion of the paddock, mow and 
 roll it. He wrote to a Dublin firm for a complete 
 supply of all things necessary for the playing of 
 lawn tennis and croquet. Meldon said that every girl 
 delighted in playing either one game or the other, and 
 that both must be provided, since it was impossible to 
 know beforehand which Miss Marjorie might prefer. 
 He proposed to instruct the Major in the games. He 
 was, he boasted, very expert in lawn tennis and a 
 croquet player of more than ordinary ability. An- 
 other letter was written to a newsagent and a cheque 
 was enclosed sufficient to cover six weeks' subscrip- 
 tion to three lady's papers. All women, young and 
 old, married or single, Meldon said, enjoyed lady's 
 papers and would only be really happy if kept well 
 provided with them. The manager of the stores at 
 which the Major dealt was asked to submit an esti- 
 mate for a supply of cakes suitable for afternoon tea, 
 to be posted regularly twice a week. Even Meldon 
 26
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 27 
 
 felt that it would be unfair to ask Mrs. O'Halloran to 
 make cakes. The Major wanted at the same time to 
 give a general order for every kind of food commonly 
 eaten by young ladies. Meldon objected to his doing 
 this, maintaining that girls required no special diet. 
 After some discussion a compromise was arrived at 
 and an order given for ten pounds of chocolate creams 
 mixed with fondants. 
 
 The Major resolutely refused to buy a side-saddle. 
 He said that he would not run the risk of putting an 
 inexperienced niece on any of the horses in his sta- 
 bles. Meldon, after arguing at some length that 
 high-spirited girls enjoy running risks, discovered 
 suddenly that the Major's anxiety was for his own 
 horses and not for Miss Marjorie's neck. Realising 
 that this was a reasonable fear, he did not press for 
 the purchase of the side-saddle. It was agreed that 
 a bicycle should be obtained instead, and Meldon 
 promised to speak to Doyle about it at once. Doyle, 
 hotel keeper, grocer, draper and emigration agent, also 
 dealt, when opportunity offered, in agricultural ma- 
 chinery, patent fertilisers, watches, sewing machines 
 and bicycles. 
 
 A fashionable stationer was written to for two 
 dozen " At Home " cards of the latest design. There 
 were only four people in Ballymoy, including Meldon 
 himself, to whom these could possibly be sent; so it
 
 28 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 was calculated that the two dozen would suffice as 
 summonses to six parties. The first, as Meldon 
 planned them, would be a simple afternoon tea to be 
 held at Portsmouth Lodge on the day after the niece's 
 arrival. The next was to take the form of a tea 
 picnic at some place not more than five miles distant 
 to which the guests would convey themselves on bi- 
 cycles. This, Meldon said, was a particularly fash- 
 ionable and delightful form of entertainment, of 
 which all young girls were very fond. Major Kent 
 got out a notebook and began to make a list of 
 his engagements. The tea picnic was to be followed 
 by another party at Portsmouth Lodge, devoted either 
 to lawn tennis or croquet ; the game indulged in to be 
 decided when it was known which of the two the 
 niece preferred. 
 
 "That's three," said Meldon. "We want three 
 more." 
 
 " Must we have three more ? " 
 
 "We must. We can't have less than one every 
 week. In fact one every week isn't really enough for 
 a high-spirited, energetic young girl. But I think 
 we may count on the other people giving a few par- 
 ties in return. Each of them is bound to ask us twice 
 at least if we ask them six times. They can't well 
 do less. That will make six more parties, two at the 
 rectory, two at the Fords', and two with the D.I. I
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 29 
 
 tell you what it is, Major, we'll make Ballymoy 
 hum ! " 
 
 "We will," said the Major without enthusiasm. 
 
 A picnic on one of the islands in the bay was Mel- 
 don's next suggestion, the guests to be taken out on 
 the yacht. The Major objected to this because Mrs. 
 Ford and Mrs. Cosgrave were invariably sick when 
 they went on the sea. Meldon pointed out that as 
 the object of the party was to give pleasure to Miss 
 Marjorie Purvis, the sufferings of other people would 
 not matter. 
 
 " In fact," he said, " if Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cos- 
 grave are sick it will rather increase the pleasure of 
 the rest of the party. I don't know if you've noticed 
 it, Major, but nothing gives most people such a feel- 
 ing of solid satisfaction as seeing somebody else vio- 
 lently ill at sea. I expect your niece will enjoy her- 
 self all the more when she notices that Mrs. Ford is 
 turning green about the gills." 
 
 " She might get sick herself." 
 
 " Not she. Is it likely that a girl who has voyaged 
 all the way from Australia would get sick in our bay ? 
 Besides, from what I've heard of your niece, she's 
 not at all the sort of girl who gets sick on a pleasure 
 party." 
 
 " So far as I know," said the Major, " you've not 
 heard anything about my niece except what you've
 
 30 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 said yourself. I wouldn't advise you to build too con- 
 fidently on that." 
 
 "After the picnic on the bay," said Meldon, "we 
 could get up a polo match. You and I would play 
 Ford and the D.I. The rector could umpire, if he's 
 well enough." 
 
 "On my ponies, I suppose?" 
 
 " Of course. Nobody else has any ponies." 
 
 " Well, then you may scratch that entertainment 
 off the list. Make what arrangements you like, J. J. 
 and I don't deny that you're doing well so far 
 but leave my ponies out. I won't have them de- 
 stroyed." 
 
 " Except a bicycle gymkhana and a display of fire- 
 works, I don't know that there's any form of enter- 
 tainment left." 
 
 " What about a dinner party ? " 
 
 " No. Girls hate dinner parties. They don't care 
 to sit for hours stuffing themselves with heavy food. 
 But we might have a dance. Doyle was telling me 
 the other day about a boy who plays the melodeon 
 splendidly. We'll clear out your dining-room, polish 
 the floor and have a dance. I'll get the rector to al- 
 low his three eldest children to come. That's three. 
 You and I make five " 
 
 " I can't dance." 
 
 " You can if you like. Don't be selfish, Major.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 31 
 
 You mustn't expect a charming niece to stay with you 
 and cheer you up and make life brighter in your home 
 without putting yourself out a little to entertain her. 
 You'll dance, of course. It'll do you a lot of good. 
 The Fords are two more. That's seven. They might 
 bring their eldest girl she's only six, but I suppose 
 she can dance more or less. She'll make eight. The 
 D.I. and his wife, ten. And Miss Marjorie herself 
 eleven. That's an odd number, but it can't be helped. 
 There's no use counting on the rector or Mrs. Cos- 
 grave. They may come and look on, but they won't 
 dance." 
 
 Major Kent, with a sigh, wrote down the dance on 
 his list. 
 
 " As a wind up," said Meldon, " a sort of grand 
 finale of the season's entertainments, we might have 
 a paper chase. I am sure that Miss Marjorie would 
 enjoy a paper chase. You and she could be hares. 
 I would lead the hounds in hot pursuit. I rather 
 fancy myself cheering on Mrs. Ford when she gets 
 entangled in a barbed-wire fence. I don't think now 
 that we can improve on that list." 
 
 " I suppose that all this is quite necessary ? " 
 
 " Absolutely. I'm giving you the irreducible min- 
 imum. You can't entertain a girl with less." 
 
 " And I suppose that we're doing quite the right 
 things? Remember, J. J., I've no experience. I'm
 
 32 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 relying entirely on you. You understand girls and 
 I don't. You're quite sure now that she'll really en- 
 joy these parties?" 
 
 " She will. It may seem odd to you that she 
 should " 
 
 " It does. In fact I scarcely believe that she can." 
 
 "All the same she will. You may take my word 
 for it, Major, that if you were to put a blank sheet 
 of paper in front of any ordinary good-looking girl 
 of twenty or twenty-one, and were to ask her to write 
 down exactly the things she'd like best to do, she'd 
 produce a list practically identical with yours. The 
 events might be placed in a different order, but they'd 
 all be there, and there'd be nothing else. Of course 
 it is understood that Ballymoy is Ballymoy. If we 
 had her somewhere else, in London or Dublin, the 
 things we'd have to do would naturally be different." 
 
 " I suppose it's all right," said the Major a little 
 wearily. "I wish to goodness Margaret hadn't in- 
 sisted on dumping her daughter down here. But she 
 always did things of that kind. When I was a boy 
 she used to bully me frightfully. I've never known 
 her show the slightest consideration for my feelings. 
 Why couldn't she have taken her daughter round 
 Europe? You'd think a mother would like to have 
 her daughter with her on a trip of the sort." 
 
 " She has good reasons for not taking her. You
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 33 
 
 may be sure of that. As a matter of fact there are 
 lots of things in those European capitals which a 
 careful mother wouldn't at all like her daughter to 
 see. She may intend to enjoy herself in ways which 
 wouldn't be suitable to a girl of twenty-one. I 
 shouldn't wonder if she and Purvis mean to run a bit 
 of a rig now they've got loose from the sheep farm. 
 
 Monte Carlo, perhaps, or " Meldon winked. 
 
 " You know the kind of thing I mean." 
 
 The Major grinned. 
 
 " I wish Margaret heard you," he said. " My dear 
 J. J., she's absolutely the last woman in the world you 
 can imagine going on any kind of spree. I've never 
 known her do anything that the strictest moralist 
 could call even fast." 
 
 "That's just the most dangerous sort of woman 
 there is. When those sober, proper ones break out 
 they run into the most frightful excesses. You can't 
 altogether blame her and Purvis. Just fancy living 
 for years and years closely surrounded by sheep, 
 seeing nothing, day after day, but sheep, hearing 
 nothing but bleats, eating nothing but mutton. The 
 sheep, as you must have observed, is the most appal- 
 lingly respectable beast there is. It occupies a sort 
 of old-fashioned, evangelical position among the 
 other animals. You can't imagine a sheep voting any 
 way but Conservative. Nobody ever heard of any-
 
 34 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 thing but a staid, quiet sheep. A bull goes mad oc- 
 casionally and runs amuck. So does a dog. We all 
 know that horses and pigs have queer tempers, but a 
 sheep is quite different. If you had lived among 
 sheep for twenty-two years, you wouldn't judge your 
 sister and Purvis as hardly as you do. You'd be 
 more ready to make allowances. I daresay she isn't 
 going to do anything really very bad; but I respect 
 her for wanting to keep her daughter safe. I can 
 tell you a girl of that age has to be considered. I 
 expect that's the reason your sister is sending Miss 
 Marjorie to us. She knows we'll look after her." 
 
 " She didn't actually mention you in her letter." 
 
 " No, she didn't. But I expect she had me in the 
 back of her mind. She realised that I was the sort 
 of man who understood girls and would see that Miss 
 Marjorie came to no harm." 
 
 "As a matter of fact, I don't suppose she ever 
 heard of you. She certainly never did from me. I 
 don't often write to her, and when I do, I don't fill up 
 the letter with descriptions of your character." 
 
 " I think," said Meldon, " 111 be off now. I'll take 
 those letters of yours into Ballymoy and post them. 
 Let me see, one to the stores, one to the newsagent 
 you're sure you put the cheque into that one? It 
 won't do to expect a man you don't deal with regu- 
 larly to send you papers on credit. One about the
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 35 
 
 tennis and croquet things, and one for the ' At Home ' 
 cards. When they come I'll give you a hand at filling 
 them up. If your niece is to be here this day week 
 we ought to get them out at once." 
 
 " We send them out in both our names, I suppose," 
 said the Major. " ' The Rev. J. J. Meldon and Ma- 
 jor Kent At Home Paper Chase R.S.V.P.' 
 That's the kind of thing, isn't it?" 
 
 The Major frequently indulged in sarcasms of this 
 sort in conversation with his friend. They glanced 
 quite harmlessly off Meldon's coat of self-esteem. 
 He very rarely took any notice of them. 
 
 " I'll see Doyle this evening about the bicycle," he 
 said. " I suppose I may run to ten pounds and get 
 a decent one. You wouldn't care to see your niece 
 riding about the country on a cheap machine." 
 
 "Oh, yes, spend what you like. Luckily I have a 
 little money put by, but if I go bankrupt over this 
 visit, it can't be helped." 
 
 " Don't be a screw, Major. You ought to be very 
 thankful to get off with a bicycle. If you happened 
 to live near any decent shops you'd have to buy hats 
 and dresses and gloves, and perhaps expensive furs 
 for every single niece who came to stay with you. I 
 knew an uncle once who took his niece into a shop 
 in London and told her to choose a hat. He'd never 
 bought a thing of the sort before and he thought fif-
 
 36 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 teen shillings would be the outside figure. What do 
 you think they stuck him? Five guineas! And they 
 very nearly had him run in for another guinea for 
 half of a stuffed bird. The girl wanted it, but the 
 uncle said he belonged to the Wild Birds' Protection 
 Society and was solemnly pledged not to buy any 
 dead fowl except a fchicken. As a matter of fact he 
 joined the society the next day and has subscribed 
 to it ever since. He says it's one that ought to be 
 supported in the interests of uncles. Now you see 
 how cheap you get off only having to buy a bicycle. 
 If there was a hat or a dress in Doyle's drapery store 
 that Miss Marjorie would wear on a desert island in 
 a downpour of rain you'd have to buy it for her. 
 Luckily for you there isn't."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MELDON left Portsmouth Lodge at four o'clock 
 and walked back to Ballymoy. It took him 
 two hours to accomplish the five miles, though he was 
 a rapid and energetic walker. The country people 
 were returning from the market in a straggling pro- 
 Cession, and Meldon found it necessary to greet each 
 group and to stop for a few minutes' conversation 
 with his more intimate friends. The people had come 
 into the town in the morning with cart-loads of turf, 
 or with potatoes, fowl, butter and young pigs in the 
 panniers of their donkeys. It was interesting to learn 
 the prices at which these had been disposed of. The 
 same carts and donkeys on their homeward journeys 
 were laden with sacks of flour, loaves of bread, lamp- 
 oil in bottles, parcels of drapery goods and smaller 
 parcels of groceries. Meldon liked to find out, as far 
 as possible, what was in the parcels, and nobody 
 seemed to resent his curiosity. About half a mile out- 
 side the town he stopped for a long talk with a man 
 on a shaggy grey horse, who had his wife perched un- 
 comfortably behind him. He had been selling a 
 salmon, poached from the upper reaches of the Bally- 
 37
 
 38 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 moy river, and Meldon was particularly anxious to 
 know what he got for it. 
 
 While he was talking to this man, Maher-Shalal- 
 Hash-Baz, looking dejected and cowed, slunk along 
 the road and rubbed himself against his master's legs. 
 Meldon guessed at once, from the animal's appear- 
 ance, that he had been ill-treated by the postmaster's 
 wife. He dropped the subject of the poached salmon 
 and set off homewards at a brisk pace, intending to 
 restore the dog's self-respect by scolding his landlady. 
 It turned out afterwards that the dog had stretched 
 himself outside the kitchen door and that the post- 
 master's wife, having at the time a tray in her hands, 
 had tripped over him and broken several valuable 
 cups. It was not necessary, however, to lecture her 
 for her carelessness. The dog's spirits revived before 
 he got home. In the main street of the town he met 
 another dog, a brown Irish terrier, whom he particu- 
 larly disliked. The feeling was evidently mutual. 
 After a few preliminary growls the two animals 
 rushed together and a fierce fight began. Meldon 
 recognised the brown terrier at once. It belonged to 
 Doyle. He sent a small boy, one of several who were 
 enjoying the spectacle of the fight, to fetch the hotel- 
 keeper. While waiting for his arrival Meldon struck 
 at both dogs with his walking-stick, hitting whichever 
 he could with fine impartiality. Doyle came out of
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 39 
 
 the hotel in his shirt-sleeves and took in the situation 
 at once. Both he and Meldon were, in fact, well ac- 
 customed to acting the part of peace-makers. Each 
 of them seized his own dog by the tail a matter of 
 some difficulty in the case of the Irish terrier, which 
 had been docked and dragged them apart. 
 
 " There'll be murder done one of these days," said 
 Doyle, " and it'll be a good thing for the town if the 
 both of them is killed at once." 
 
 " Can you," said Meldon, holding fast by his pet's 
 tail, "get a bicycle for Major Kent before this day 
 week ? " 
 
 " I can, of course but will you wait a minute, 
 Mr. Meldon, till I lock up this dog in the stable? I 
 can't hear myself speak with the way he's yapping to 
 get away from me." 
 
 " What does the Major want with another bi- 
 cycle ? " he said, when he returned from imprisoning 
 the brown dog. " Didn't he get a new one only last 
 April? And I wouldn't say he'd been on it a dozen 
 times since." 
 
 " It isn't for himself he wants it. It's for a lady." 
 
 " Do you tell me that ? Surely to goodness now old 
 Biddy O'Halloran isn't taking to the bicycle, and her 
 after burying two husbands and putting six childer 
 out into the world before she went housekeeping for 
 the Major?"
 
 40 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " It's not for Mrs. O'Halloran he wants it." 
 " Do you mean to tell me he's thinking of getting 
 a bicycle for that red-headed girl of old Thomas Gar- 
 ry's, the one he has within in the house along with 
 Biddy O'Halloran ? Not but what it might be handy 
 enough to have one for the like of her, the way she 
 could run into the town on it and post the letters, or 
 get half a pound of tea, or whatever Biddy O'Hal- 
 loran might come short of on a sudden in the house." 
 " It's not for Mary Garry," said Meldon. " I don't 
 mind telling you, Mr. Doyle, who it is for, and I will 
 tell you some time again ; but I can't be standing here 
 all the evening in the middle of the street holding a 
 white dog by the tail, and shouting out the Major's 
 private affairs for half the town to hear." 
 " That's true, as true as if I said it myself." 
 " It's a great deal truer. If you said it there'd be 
 precious little truth in it. I never knew you tell the 
 truth not what the Major would call the naked 
 truth since I've known you, but the once, and that 
 was this day last week, when you said that brown 
 dog of yours was an ugly blackguard." 
 
 Mr. Doyle grinned his approval of this remark, 
 which he regarded as a compliment. It was a hand- 
 some appreciation of his astuteness, and was there- 
 fore very agreeable to him. No man but a fool tells 
 the truth in business or politics, and Doyle had a
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 41 
 
 reputation to sustain. He could not afford to be 
 thought a fool either in the conduct of public affairs 
 or in his private capacity. 
 
 " Would you step inside the hotel with me, Mr. 
 Meldon," he said, "and we can settle about the bi- 
 cycle the Major wants? I was wishing to speak a 
 word to you anyway, and I may as well do it now as 
 again. You can let go that dog of yours. Now that 
 my own's locked up, there isn't one in the town but 
 what that white beast of yours has fought it and 
 beaten it. He'll lie quiet till you come out if it's only 
 for the want of something more agreeable to do." 
 
 Meldon followed Doyle into the hotel. 
 
 " We'll have to go into my private apartment, for 
 there's a commercial gent in the coffee-room," said 
 Doyle, after opening the door on the right-hand side 
 of the passage and looking in. " He travels in hard- 
 ware for Clements and Ball of Sheffield. He was in 
 the shop with me this morning trying to sell me some 
 sort of new patent razor. I told him the only use 
 we had for razors in this country that is, barring 
 the clergy, of course, Mr. Meldon was for cutting 
 throats with. I asked him was the safety razor any 
 improvement on the old sort for that sort of work. 
 ' For if it is,' said I, ' I'll take a gross of them.' You 
 never met a man with less idea of business than that 
 fellow. Instead of telling me that his patent razor
 
 42 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 was the finest weapon out for cold-blooded and de- 
 liberate murder, and then booking my order for the 
 whole gross of them, the poor man said that the point 
 about his razors was that they wouldn't cut a baby." 
 
 Mr. Doyle's private apartment was a small room 
 at the back of the hotel premises. It smelt very 
 strongly of whisky, bottled porter, and tobacco. It 
 was furnished with a round table stained to imitate 
 mahogany, six rickety chairs with horse-hair seats, 
 and a sofa deeply dinged near the upper end where 
 Mr. Doyle usually sat. There was a sloped writing- 
 desk under the window, littered with dusty account- 
 books and bill-forms. Over the fireplace hung a 
 cracked mirror in a tarnished gilt frame. The other 
 walls were adorned with two pictures of eminent race- 
 horses and a handsomely framed portrait of an 
 ecclesiastic, a relative of Doyle's, who had risen to 
 high honour in the United States. 
 
 "What will you take?" asked Mr. Doyle. 
 
 The meaning of the question became apparent at 
 once. Mr. Doyle turned the key in the door of a cup- 
 board as he spoke, opened it, and displayed an array 
 of bottles and tumblers, clean and dirty, on the 
 shelves within. 
 
 " Nothing, thank you," said Meldon. " You know 
 well enough that I don't touch a drop except at my 
 meals."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 43 
 
 " Excuse me," said Doyle. 
 
 He left the cupboard, walked over to the window 
 and drew down the blind. Then he winked at Mel- 
 don. 
 
 " That idle spalpeen of a Paddy Clancy," he said, 
 " spends half the day looking in at this window and 
 talking round the town after about what goes on in 
 here." 
 
 The thought in Mr. Doyle's mind was plain. Mr. 
 Meldon, as a clergyman, would naturally be unwilling 
 to take any form of refreshment under the eye of the 
 garrulous Paddy Clancy. Assured of decent privacy, 
 it was natural to suppose that he would drink whisky 
 when it was offered to him. 
 
 " I have a bottle of good stuff here," said Doyle 
 persuasively. "The like of it is what you wouldn't 
 get at the bar outside ; no, nor at any other bar." 
 
 " I won't touch it," said Meldon. " It isn't Paddy 
 Clancy nor his talk that would stop me if I wanted to 
 drink, but I don't. You've been acquainted with me 
 long enough now, Mr. Doyle, to know that I don't 
 go in for promiscuous drinking." 
 
 "Will I send for a bottle of lemonade for you?" 
 said Doyle with fine scorn. 
 
 " You will not. Do you think I'd go blowing my- 
 self out with that sort of fizzy stuff? Let's get to 
 business now, Mr. Doyle, without any more of your
 
 44 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 talk and your foolishness. The lady the Major wants 
 the bicycle for is his own niece that's coming to stay 
 with him. He wants a good one, and he'll give ten 
 pounds for it. Now what sort of a bicycle can you 
 be sure of having here in the inside of a week?" 
 
 Mr. Doyle sat down at his writing-table and began 
 to take a note of the order. 
 
 " What sized frame will you want ? " he asked. 
 "Is the lady tall?" 
 
 " She's a well-grown girl, but not what you'd call 
 exactly tall. I can't tell you her height to an inch, 
 for I never measured her. The best thing will be to 
 get a low frame, in ase of accidents, and then if she's 
 too big for it the saddle can be raised." 
 
 After a quarter of an hour of brisk discussion, the 
 make, grade, and size of the bicycle were settled. 
 Doyle, acting, so he said, in a way that would get him 
 into trouble with the makers if the transaction came 
 to their ears, agreed to sell the bicycle at consider- 
 ably less than the advertised price, thereby foregoing 
 his own legitimate profit. 
 
 " It's on account of the respect I have for the Ma- 
 jor," he said, "and on account of the liking I have 
 for yourself, Mr. Meldon, that I'm selling the bi- 
 cycle at the price I am. If it was anyone else that 
 asked it of me, I'd " 
 
 "You'd do just what you're doing this minute,"
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 45 
 
 said Meldon, "and make a good profit on the tran- 
 saction." 
 
 " I'll not be making a penny ! " 
 
 He spoke with such conviction that Meldon hesi- 
 tated in his disbelief. 
 
 " If you're not making money on the bicycle," he 
 said, after a pause, " you'll be expecting to get some- 
 thing out of the Major some other way. What 
 is it?" 
 
 Mr. Doyle rose slowly from his writing-table, 
 crossed the room, and sat down in the accustomed 
 corner of the sofa. 
 
 " I was telling you before," he said, " that there's 
 a matter I want to speak to you about." 
 
 "Trot it out then; and if the particular job you 
 want the Major to do isn't too obviously objection- 
 able, I'll do my best to help you to persuade him." 
 
 "You might have heard," said Mr. Doyle, "that 
 the Lord Lieutenant is to pay a visit to the town and 
 the Lady Lieutenant along with him." 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant was a well-known English no- 
 bleman, the Marquis of Chesterton. His wife, a 
 young American lady of large fortune, had devoted 
 herself to the task of regenerating Ireland. After 
 a careful study of the conditions of Irish life, she 
 arrived at the [conclusion that the work of reform 
 ought to begin with the children. So far she was
 
 46 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 entirely original. None of her predecessors had at- 
 tempted to improve the Irish nurseries. But the tra- 
 ditions of office were too strong in the end even for 
 the daring mind of the American marchioness. For 
 the working out of her reform she lapsed into com- 
 monplace methods. She founded a society, non-po- 
 litical and non-sectarian in principle, called the "As- 
 sociation for the Amelioration of the Irish Child," 
 and solicited subscriptions for its support. Whether 
 the money was to be spent in presenting hygienic un- 
 derclothes to the poorer mothers for the use of their 
 babes, or in providing tins of patent foods at a cheap 
 rate to large families, did not appear in the rules of 
 the association. 
 
 Lady Chesterton's energies were devoted at first to 
 the task of enrolling members. Not content with 
 swearing in the fashionable parents who attended the 
 levees and drawing-rooms at the Castle, she went 
 round the country in a motor-car, accompanied by 
 His Excellency and a private secretary, and sought 
 recruits among the fathers and mothers of very un- 
 likely places. No district was too remote for Lady 
 Chesterton. She wished to dredge up parents from 
 the streets of the most backward country towns, and 
 Ballymoy was, naturally, one of the places she deter- 
 mined to visit. It seemed likely, since Ballymoy was 
 twenty miles from a railway station, that the chil-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 47 
 
 dren there would be badly in need of amelioration. 
 
 " Father McCormack," said Doyle, " thinks we 
 ought to have a public meeting and an address of 
 welcome presented. Lord Lieutenants is common 
 enough, and nobody'd put themselves about for one 
 of them, nor yet for a Chief Secretary ; but this is the 
 first time a Lady Lieutenant ever came to these parts, 
 and it's my opinion and Father McCormack's opin- 
 ion that we ought to make the best we can of the 
 occasion." 
 
 " I'm surprised at you, Mr. Doyle," said Meldon. 
 "You that are a Nationalist and the President of 
 every kind of league there is, would you be the first 
 to welcome the representative of the English King?" 
 
 "You're not looking at the matter in the right 
 way," said Doyle. " It isn't the representative of 
 the King that I'm proposing to welcome for I 
 wouldn't do the like but an amiable lady that has 
 shown the greatest sympathy with the people of this 
 country in a practical way. Why wouldn't I welcome 
 her?" 
 
 " I suppose now," said Meldon, " that what you're 
 going on is the thing the newspapers call the tradi- 
 tional courtesy of the Irish people towards the fair 
 sex. Is that it?" 
 
 " It is," said Doyle, looking Meldon straight in 
 the face without winking.
 
 48 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 "And there might be money in it?" 
 
 " Of course there's money in it ! " said Doyle. 
 " Didn't you hear about the society she has started 
 for ameliorating the Irish children? You can't do 
 that without money. I saw a list of subscriptions 
 the length of your arm in the Irish Times a week ago. 
 And what I say is this: Why shouldn't Ballymoy get 
 its share of what's going as well as another place ? " 
 
 " So we're to have a public meeting, are we ? " 
 
 " We are. And an address of welcome, illumi- 
 nated. Now what I want to speak to you about is 
 this : We're in a bit of a difficulty about who is to 
 present the address." 
 
 " I'll do it for you if you like," said Meldon. " I 
 never have presented an address of welcome, but I'm 
 sure I could if I tried." 
 
 " It wasn't you I had in my mind ; though I needn't 
 tell you, Mr. Meldon, I'd sooner see you do it than 
 another. I've a respect for you and a liking. But 
 I'm not sure that it would suit for you to present 
 that address." Doyle's voice sank to a whisper. 
 " Father McCormack mightn't altogether like it." 
 
 "Very well, then. Let Father McCormack do it 
 himself. I shan't mind." 
 
 " He won't," said Doyle. " He says that, the so- 
 ciety being undenominational, and the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant being a strong Protestant, it wouldn't do for a 
 priest to be presenting the address."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 49 
 
 "Do it yourself, then." 
 
 " It wouldn't answer me at all. There's people in 
 Ireland, and, what's more, there's newspapers in 
 Dublin, that takes the greatest possible delight in 
 misconstruing the actions of public men like myself. 
 You'll hardly believe me, Mr. Meldon, but them fel- 
 lows is capable of saying that I was putting in for a 
 knighthood if I presented that address. But I'll tell 
 you what I was thinking. Maybe Major Kent would 
 do it. He's a magistrate and a public man, and he's 
 well liked in the town." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Meldon, " that's where the Major 
 comes in, is it? I thought we'd get to him soon." 
 
 " I'm sure now," said Doyle, " that if you was to 
 ask him he'd do it." 
 
 " I'm quite sure he wouldn't, not if I went down 
 on my knees to him and kissed his boot. The Ma- 
 jor hates making a show of himself in public. He's 
 not that kind of man at all." 
 
 " Well, then, I don't know what's to be done. 
 The address is up in Dublin being illuminated at the 
 present minute, and we're sending a couple of the 
 boys round the town on a house-to-house collec- 
 tion to-night to gather the money to pay for it 
 It'll be a terrible pity to have it all go to waste on 
 us." 
 
 "I'll tell you what now. When did you say they 
 were coming? "
 
 50 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 "The date's not fixed yet, but it'll be in about a 
 fortnight." 
 
 "Very well," said Meldon; "that'll suit perfectly. 
 I'll get the Major's niece to present the address. 
 She'll be here next week, and she's just the sort of 
 young lady who'd enjoy presenting an address, and, 
 what's more, would present it uncommonly well." 
 
 " She might do." 
 
 " She will do. You can't possibly get anyone bet- 
 ter. The Lord Lieutenant will be delighted, and the 
 Lady Lieutenant, as you call her, will ripple all over 
 with pleasure. I'll arrange with the Major, but if 
 I do you'll have to take another ten shillings off the 
 price of the bicycle." 
 
 " 111 lose money on it so." 
 
 " You will not, but you'll make. You'll make more 
 than you deserve. But I'll tell you what I'll do so 
 as to meet you halfway: I'll get the Major to give 
 five shillings towards the price of the illuminated ad- 
 dress. That's as good as putting it into your pocket, 
 for you'll have to pay up whatever they're short in 
 the price. I don't see how anything could be fairer 
 than that to both parties. And I can tell you that 
 you're uncommonly lucky in getting a hold of Miss 
 Purvis. There won't be another address in the whole 
 province of Connacht presented with the same stately 
 grace and general appropriateness of gesture and ex- 
 pression."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE reputation of the Major's niece spread 
 through all sections of society in Ballymoy 
 during the week which preceded her arrival. Mr. 
 Doyle, since Miss Purvis was to present the illumi- 
 nated address, felt that he must create a public opin- 
 ion in her favour. Chatting casually to customers 
 at his bar, he spoke of her as a young lady whose 
 beauty had taken English society by storm, who had 
 been presented to the King, whose company was 
 eagerly sought after by the rich and great. It came 
 by degrees to be -generally believed that the visit 
 of the Lord Lieutenant and Lady Chesterton to Bal- 
 lymoy was to be made in reality for the sake of be- 
 coming acquainted with Miss Marjorie Purvis, and 
 that the formation of a branch of the Association 
 for the Amelioration of the Irish Child was a mere 
 excuse. Mrs. Ford, the wife of the Resident Mag- 
 istrate, Mrs. Cosgrave at the Rectory, and Mrs. 
 Gregg, who had only been a year married to the Dis- 
 trict Inspector of Police, received their invitation 
 cards and met frequently to discuss the clothes they 
 would wear on the festive occasion. They gradu- 
 ally came to think of Major Kent's niece as a young 
 5*
 
 52 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 lady of splendid and most fashionable attire, in whose 
 company even the remaining glories of Mrs. Gregg's 
 trousseau would be dimmed. 
 
 Meldon's society was eagerly sought after. He 
 alone appeared to be in a position to give detailed in- 
 formation about Miss Purvis. He always disclaimed 
 any personal knowledge of her. He said repeatedly 
 and distinctly that he had never seen her, that there 
 was no photograph of her at hand and that he could 
 do no more than guess at her appearance. He was 
 nevertheless quoted as the authority for the portrait 
 which fancy drew. Miss Marjorie it was thus 
 that everyone spoke of her was believed to possess 
 a mass of auburn hair, large brown eyes, a lovely 
 complexion, and a figure of surpassing excellence. 
 Her favourite colours, those in which she almost in- 
 variably dressed, were said by Mrs. Ford, who gave 
 Meldon as her authority, to be a warm shade of 
 heliotrope and a rich brown. Her hats were spoken 
 of sometimes as "picture"; at other times, more 
 vaguely, as " matinee." Even the country people, 
 dwelling in remote and boggy regions, took an inter- 
 est in Miss Marjorie and held a theory of their own 
 about her. She was, so they were assured that Mel- 
 don had said, a cousin of the Lord Lieutenant's wife. 
 Meldon enjoyed himself amazingly during the week. 
 
 Major Kent, who had a natural dislike to being
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 53 
 
 questioned, and who felt besides that gossip was fix- 
 ing a reputation on his niece which she might not be 
 able to sustain, shut himself up as much as he could 
 in Portsmouth Lodge. When caught one day in the 
 main street of Ballymoy and asked for more informa- 
 tion about his wonderful relative, he vehemently de- 
 nied everything that anybody had said. His action 
 merely served to stimulate the growth of what may 
 be described as the " Marjorie myth." It was felt 
 that the Major, as a modest man, could not be ex- 
 pected to boast publicly about the professional beauty 
 of the Kent family. 
 
 The bicycle arrived four days after it had been 
 ordered, which was regarded in Ballymoy as a re- 
 markable proof of Doyle's business energy. The 
 congratulations which poured in on him were well 
 deserved. He had written three letters and sent no 
 less than four telegrams about the bicycle. It was 
 unpacked from its case under Meldon's personal su- 
 pervision and polished to the highest possible degree. 
 Then it was placed on show in the window of Doyle's 
 drapery store, surmounted by a large card which bore 
 in red letters an extremely mendacious notice. 
 " This bicycle," so the public were informed, " was 
 specially manufactured by the British and Irish Cycle 
 Company to the order of Major Kent, Esq., J.P., of 
 Portsmouth Lodge." The saleswoman of the drapery
 
 54 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 store, who had been obliged to remove a number of 
 exquisite blouses from her window, resented the bi- 
 cycle. The next morning she made up for the loss 
 of advertisement which her goods suffered by placing 
 in front of the bicycle a corset labelled " Special and 
 Elegant The Marjorie." Very fortunately Meldon 
 happened to pass down the street shortly after the 
 garment was exposed to view. He called on Doyle 
 at once and insisted that the corset should be re- 
 moved. He said that no self-respecting uncle, least 
 of all Major Kent, would tolerate the publication of 
 his niece's name in connection with underclothes. 
 
 The meeting of Miss Marjorie at a railway station 
 twenty miles distant from Ballymoy was a serious 
 business, and arrangements were made in good time. 
 Jamesy Deveril, the groom, was sent off early in the 
 morning with a spring-cart. He was to feed his 
 horse in Donard and be ready to set off home with 
 the luggage as soon as the train arrived. Major 
 Kent and Meldon started at nine o'clock on the car. 
 The train by which Miss Marjorie travelled was due 
 in Donard at a quarter-past one. Luncheon could be 
 eaten in the hotel and a start made for home at about 
 half-past two o'clock, the horse by that time being 
 sufficiently rested to travel his second twenty miles 
 at a reasonable speed. There was thus every hope 
 of Marjorie's reaching Portsmouth Lodge in time for
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 55 
 
 a late afternoon tea and finding her luggage there to 
 meet her. Mrs. O'Halloran was charged to have the 
 tea ready. The Major himself unpacked and put out 
 on plates the first instalment of cakes which arrived 
 from the stores. Two of the ladies' papers were laid 
 on the drawing-room table; the third and largest the 
 Major put in his niece's bedroom. Meldon objected 
 to this arrangement, arguing that it was a pity not to 
 display the papers to the best advantage. The Major 
 stuck to his own plan. He said that the illustrations 
 of the advertisements in that particular paper were 
 not suitable for public exhibition and that it would 
 be embarrassing for his niece to look at them in 
 Meldon's company. The tennis net was erected in 
 the paddock and the ground marked out. Mrs. 
 O'Halloran was told to see that Mary Garry adorned 
 herself with a cap and apron. Meldon, acting on the 
 advice of the young lady in Doyle's drapery store, 
 had bought a supply of these garments and was par- 
 ticularly pleased at the enormously long white stream- 
 ers which depended from them. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gregg, who happened to be on the 
 road in front of their house when the car started, 
 waved a greeting to the Major. Doyle, at the door 
 of the hotel, where the car had to stop to pick up 
 Meldon, wished the expedition good luck. A strag- 
 gling cheer, led by Paddy Clancy, gave a final send-
 
 56 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 off as the horse trotted along the main street of Bal- 
 lymoy. 
 
 Travelling quietly, so as not to exhaust the horse, 
 the Major and Meldon arrived in Donard shortly 
 after twelve o'clock. They went at once to the hotel 
 and saw their horse stabled and fed. Then they went 
 indoors to order luncheon. The landlord offered them 
 a choice of chops or chicken. The Major ordered 
 both a wise precaution, for the chicken destined 
 for the meal was still at large, pecking Indian meal 
 in the yard. The question of a pudding was more 
 difficult. A custard pudding, suggested by the land- 
 lord, was not satisfactory. The Major himself de- 
 tested custard pudding and found it difficult to be- 
 lieve that his niece would eat it. The landlord did 
 not seem hopeful of his cook's being able to make 
 anything else. 
 
 Driven to despair by the Major's persistent ob- 
 jections to the custard pudding, he recollected at last 
 that there was a "tin of what they call pineapples 
 in the shop beyond." He supposed that the Major 
 could have it if he liked; but, foreseeing possible 
 disappointment, he disclaimed any responsibility for 
 its condition. 
 
 " I wouldn't say but it might have gone bad on us. 
 I mind seeing it there on the shelf along with the jam 
 and the starch for maybe five years." 
 
 The wrangle about luncheon lasted half an hour,
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 57 
 
 and it was one o'clock when the Major and Meldon 
 reached the railway station. Jamesy Deveril and 
 the spring-cart stood at the gate. A rope was ready 
 at hand to bind the niece's luggage securely into its 
 place. 
 
 "I suppose," said the Major, '"she won't have 
 more luggage than the cart can carry." 
 
 " No," said Meldon, " she won't. From my ex- 
 perience of girls, I should say that at the very out- 
 side she won't have more than one trunk, a smaller 
 one, a hold-all, two hat-boxes, a dressing-case, and a 
 small hand-bag; not counting rugs, umbrellas, and 
 perhaps golf jclubs. The dressing-case and the hand- 
 bag we shall, of course, take with us on the car. 
 She will very likely want them in the hotel before 
 luncheon. The rest will easily fit on the cart. I 
 hope you told Jamesy to start at once and drive 
 lively." 
 
 " I did. I told him to be off the minute he got 
 the luggage." 
 
 " That's all right. The luggage ought to get there 
 before we do. She'd naturally want to change her 
 dress before tea. I wish now that we'd thought of 
 telling Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary Garry to unpack 
 her things for her." 
 
 " We could wire to them," said the Major, " if 
 you think it's necessary." 
 
 "Better not," said Meldon. "We'd only confuse
 
 58 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran. What with the afternoon tea and 
 Mary Garry's cap and apron, she's over-excited al- 
 ready. A telegram might upset her seriously, and 
 from what I saw of Mary Garry yesterday I should 
 say that the sight of an orange envelope would drive 
 her into hysterics." 
 
 They paced the platform together in silence 
 for nearly five minutes. Then the Major spoke 
 again. 
 
 "You'll take her on your side of the par, J. J., 
 and talk to her. I'll drive." 
 
 "All right. I think it would show more family 
 affection if you sat with her and let me drive. But 
 she's your niece, not mine, so, of course, you can ar- 
 range it any way you like." 
 
 " I don't understand girls," said the Major. " I 
 couldn't possibly talk to one for two hours and a-half 
 straight on end. You can point out all the objects 
 of interest we pass on the way." 
 
 "Of course, if you're afraid of your own niece, 
 Major, I'll tackle her for you. I'm not nervous. 
 So far as Miss Marjorie herself is concerned, I dare- 
 say she'll prefer sitting with me. She certainly 
 would if she knew that your only idea of conversa- 
 tion is pointing out objects of interest. But I should 
 have thought you'd have liked to hear the latest news 
 about your sister. You haven't seen her for twenty-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 59 
 
 two years, you know. You ought to want to hear 
 about her." 
 
 The Major made no apology for his want of inter- 
 est in Mrs. Purvis. For five minutes more they 
 paced the platform in silence. Then Meldon looked 
 at his watch and remarked that the train was late. 
 The station-master, being appealed to, assured them 
 that " she " had been signalled from the next station 
 and would arrive in less than ten minutes. He was 
 right. Shortly after he spoke the engine panted 
 round the corner outside the station and dragged up 
 to the platform two coaches and a luggage-van. 
 The Major and Meldon peered eagerly into the two 
 first-class compartments. One of them contained a 
 Government official, a dignified gentleman with a 
 despatch-box and a cigar. The other was empty. 
 In the second-class compartments there was nobody 
 at all. From the other coach, which was made up of 
 five third-class compartments, there emerged three 
 commercial travellers, two labourers, and a dishev- 
 elled little girl of about ten years old. 
 
 " She hasn't come ! " said the Major. 
 
 " No," said Meldon, " she hasn't. We may as well 
 go home." 
 
 "What on earth are we to do? Where can she 
 be ? My sister Margaret " 
 
 "From what you've told me about your sister,"
 
 60 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 said Meldon, " I think it highly likely that Miss Mar- 
 jorie, having once got off by herself, has made up her 
 mind to have a gay time of it in Dublin for a few 
 days before coming down to a dull hole like Bally- 
 moy. Lots of girls do that sort of thing nowadays. 
 It's what's called asserting their economic independ- 
 ence." 
 
 "She's lost!" said the Major. "Either she's 
 missed the train in Dublin or she's forgotten to change 
 at Athlone. Margaret will never forgive me! I 
 must send wires to every station along the line. I 
 shall take the next train to Dublin myself and look 
 for her." 
 
 "There isn't a train till ten o'clock to-night. 
 Don't get fussy, Major. The girl's all right. She's 
 probably rushing about the streets on top of a tram 
 this minute, enjoying herself immensely. I know ex- 
 actly the sort of things a girl would do. She'll turn 
 up all right in two or three days." 
 
 The station-master approached them from the 
 other end of the platform and touched his hat: 
 
 " There's a young lady here, Major, who says she's 
 expecting you to meet her." 
 
 "Where?" said the Major. 
 
 The station-master pointed to the little girl, who 
 stood alone but apparently quite self-possessed near 
 the luggage-van. A porter had laid a small leather-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 61 
 
 bound cabin-trunk on the platform beside her. 
 
 "Good Lord!" said the Major. "Can that be 
 Mar jorie ? " 
 
 " She's not exactly what you led us to expect," 
 said Meldon, " but she's evidently your niece. She's 
 the only niece you'll get here to-day anyhow, so you'd 
 better make the most of her." 
 
 " But but she's a mere child ! " 
 
 Meldon left him and walked up to the little girl. 
 
 " Are you Marjorie Purvis ? " he asked. 
 
 She stretched out her hand to him with frank 
 friendliness. Her face was very dirty and her hair 
 was dishevelled, but she was neither shy nor embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 " You're Uncle John, I suppose ? " she said. 
 
 " No, I'm not," said Meldon. " My name is Mel- 
 don Joseph John Meldon and you can call me 
 *J. J.' for short if you like. Lots of people do. 
 Your Uncle John is standing over there beside the 
 man with the gold band on his hat and the brass but- 
 tons on his coat. He doesn't seem to be a very affec- 
 tionate uncle, but in reality he is. When you get to 
 know him better, you'll find that the stiffness of man- 
 ner which strikes you now will wear off and he'll 
 become quite demonstrative. The thing for you to 
 do now is to go over to him and kiss him heartily on 
 both cheeks."
 
 62 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " He doesn't look as if he wants to be kissed," 
 said Marjorie doubtfully. 
 
 " All the same, he does. That's what he's waiting 
 for." 
 
 Marjorie took Meldon's hand and led him along 
 the platform to the Major. 
 
 " Uncle John," she said, " here I am." 
 
 "How do you do?" said the Major, putting out 
 his right hand. 
 
 "J. J. said you'd like me to kiss you," said Mar- 
 jorie, "but I can't unless you stoop down." 
 
 The Major scowled ferociously at Meldon and 
 stooped. Marjorie kissed him decisively, first on one 
 cheek and then on the other. The station-master 
 grinned. 
 
 " Come on now," said Meldon, " and we'll get a 
 bite to eat. I expect you're hungry, aren't you, Mar- 
 jorie? Your Uncle John and I have arranged to 
 have a chicken and some chops ready for you, and 
 a custard pudding and some tinned pineapple which 
 has probably gone bad. After that we're going for 
 a long drive on a 'ear." 
 
 " With a nice gee-gee," said the Major. 
 
 He felt disappointed in his niece and puzzled ; but 
 he did not intend to allow Meldon to take entire pos- 
 session of her. He believed that the term " gee- 
 gee" was the proper one to use in speaking of a 
 horse to a child. Marjorie looked at him with pity-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 63 
 
 ing scorn. Then she took Meldon's hand and hur- 
 ried him along the platform. 
 
 " Come along," she said, " and let's feed. I've 
 got a rare old twist on ! " 
 
 " Good God ! " said the Major. 
 
 " Marjorie," said Meldon, " does your Aunt Mar- 
 garet I mean to say, does your mother, Mrs. Pur- 
 vis, allow you to use language of that kind? Do 
 you in your own home, in the presence of your par- 
 ents, speak of ' a rare old twist ' ? " 
 
 The child looked up at him and a smile broadened 
 out on her face. 
 
 " You're not mother. You don't mind what I say. 
 No more does Uncle John. He was silly just now 
 about the gee-gee, but I think he's a nice man really." 
 
 " He is," said Meldon, " and so am I. But it 
 doesn't follow that we're the sort of men who habit- 
 ually use bad language." 
 
 " ' Twist ' isn't bad language," said Marjorie. 
 " But I do know some bad language, real bad. I 
 learned it from a sailor on the ship. It's terrible 
 bad and shocking. Shall I say it for you?" 
 
 " No," said Meldon, " don't ! It might be too much 
 for me. I'm young and innocent younger than I 
 look, a good deal. But some time, when you're alone 
 with your Uncle John, say it to him, all you know 
 of it, straight out. You'll enjoy watching the way 
 he takes it."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MARJORIE displayed a healthy appetite at 
 luncheon. The chops were hardly less tough 
 than the chicken, but she ate first one and then the 
 other with apparent enjoyment. To the amazement 
 of her uncle she also liked the custard pudding. The 
 pineapple, after Meldon had smelt it and carefully 
 dissected a slice with his knife, was pronounced unfit 
 for human food, to the great disappointment of Mar- 
 jorie. 
 
 When luncheon was over, Major Kent whispered 
 to Meldon that he wished to speak to him privately. 
 After a profusion of apologies, which Marjorie ac- 
 cepted graciously, the two men left the room. 
 
 "Well," said Meldon, when they got outside the 
 hotel and had lit their pipes, " I must say Miss Mar- 
 jorie has rather let us in. She's a charming little 
 girl, of course I wouldn't ask a nicer, but she's 
 not exactly what the people of Ballymoy have been 
 expecting." 
 
 " It's entirely your fault, J. J.," said the Major, 
 and it was evident that he was seriously vexed. 
 
 "I don't see that. How on earth can it be my 
 fault that your niece is only ten years old? Blame
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 65 
 
 your sister Margaret if you must blame anybody, or 
 blame Purvis ; though I think you will be acting un- 
 justly if you do even that. But you can't possibly 
 blame me or speak about it's being my fault." 
 
 " I do blame you. If you hadn't gone gassing 
 about the town saying that Marjorie was a grown-up 
 young lady, this trouble would never have come on 
 us. Now we're in an utterly ridiculous position. 
 We're committed to a series of parties and an ad- 
 dress to a Lord Lieutenant, and everybody is expect- 
 ing to see a fashionable beauty. Good heavens, J. J! 
 What are we to do ? " 
 
 "The address to the Lord Lieutenant will be all 
 right. I'll settle that with Doyle. The parties are a 
 bit awkward, I admit. I suppose we couldn't buy 
 her a long frock and pretend she's grown-up, could 
 we? She wouldn't look so very young if we rigged 
 her out properly. Mary Garry would do up her hair. 
 Marjorie herself would enjoy it. It would be the 
 best of games for her." 
 
 " Don't be an infernal ass ! We've got to see the 
 thing through as it stands. But whatever possessed 
 you to say that she was a grown-up young lady ? " 
 
 " I deduced her age from the information you af- 
 forded me," said Meldon. " You distinctly said that 
 the Purvises had been twenty-two years married, and 
 that the girl's name was Marjorie. I still maintain
 
 66 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 that the inference that I drew from those two facts 
 was perfectly sound in principle. It has turned out 
 to be wrong. I admit that, of course. But nine 
 times out of ten ninety-nine times out of a hundred 
 I should have been perfectly right. I don't see 
 that I can be blamed in any way. The responsibility 
 for our unfortunate position and I quite grant that 
 it is unfortunate rests entirely on you." 
 
 " It doesn't ! I never opened my mouth except to 
 say that I knew nothing about her whatever." 
 
 " It does ! You ought to have known the age of 
 your own sister's child. It's a great shame for a 
 man like you not to have kept in touch with his sis- 
 ter. There you were, grossly ignorant of the very 
 existence of your only sister's only child." 
 
 " She's not the only child. I happen to know that 
 much. Margaret has written to me again and again, 
 and each time she has announced the birth of either 
 a son or a daughter. I think there must be ten of 
 them at least. I'm nearly sure that I'm godfather to 
 four. I suppose this one is the youngest." 
 
 " If you'd told me all that at the time when we first 
 talked the matter over, I shouldn't have been so con- 
 fident about Mar j one's age. However, there's no 
 use in going back on your past mistakes. I don't 
 want to twit you with them and rub them in. We 
 must get back to that poor child. She'll be lonely."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 67 
 
 " Wait a minute, J. J. ! There's no hurry. I want 
 to make some arrangements. We must spend some 
 hours here." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I'm not going to drive through Ballymoy 
 till after dark. I couldn't face it. Everybody will 
 be out watching for us. You saw the way they 
 turned out to see us off. It will be worse going home. 
 I should have to offer some kind of public explana- 
 tion." 
 
 "Be a man, Major! Face the inevitable. After 
 all, you'll have to explain sooner or later. It will be 
 easier for you to do it once for all in a public speech 
 from the car outside of Doyle's hotel, than to be 
 dribbling out the miserable truth to one person after 
 another as you happen to meet them. Far better 
 get the thing over at one gulp." 
 
 " No. If I get safe home to-night I'll shut myself 
 up and leave you to do the explaining. I'll write 
 round and put off those six abominable parties." 
 
 " You can't do that. It would be absolutely cruel. 
 Mrs. Ford's got a new dress. She told me so her- 
 self. One or two of the parties must come off. If 
 they don't she'll fall into a rapid decline and her 
 death will lie at your door." 
 
 " Let her die ! What does it matter to me whether 
 she dies or not?"
 
 68 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " And even if we put off all the parties, you've still 
 got to face the Lord Lieutenant. He's not likely to 
 die just to oblige you, and I don't see any other way 
 of escaping that ceremony. You're absolutely com- 
 mitted to it." 
 
 " I'll send round word that the child's in bed with 
 the measles." 
 
 "You may," said Meldon. "You may tell a de- 
 liberate lie in public. You may cast a slight upon the 
 representative of the King, insult him wantonly in a 
 far worse way than any Nationalist ever did; but 
 don't imagine that you'll escape by doing that. 
 You'll be found out to a certainty, and then the con- 
 sequences will be worse than anything you can imag- 
 ine. From what I have seen of Marjorie so far, I 
 should say that she's not at all the sort of little girl 
 who'd stay in bed all day when she hasn't got the 
 measles. She'd get out as soon as your back is 
 turned and go wandering somewhere about the roads 
 while you're perjuring yourself to the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant. Somebody will see her, and then you'll be in a 
 much worse position than you are now." 
 
 The Major remained silent, overwhelmed perhaps 
 by the prospect of the failure of his plan. 
 
 "You'll hardly go so far," said Meldon, "as to 
 actually inoculate the unfortunate child in such a way 
 as to make her really ill. If you do, I'll denounce
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 69 
 
 you publicly. I'm very fond of poor little Marjorie, 
 although she's not my niece. The Lord Lieutenant's 
 wife is coming round here specially to protect chil- 
 dren from ill-usage. If I tell her that you've been 
 injecting any kind of vile bacillus into your niece 
 Marjorie, she'll have you prosecuted with the utmost 
 severity, even if she has to get a special Act of Par- 
 liament passed for the purpose, and she'll be perfectly 
 right." 
 
 " Anyhow," said the Major sullenly, " I'm not go- 
 ing home till after dark." 
 
 " All right. I suppose I must do my best to amuse 
 Marjorie for the afternoon. There is an old castle 
 and almost half a ruined abbey just outside the town. 
 I don't expect she'll care much about them, but, un- 
 less you can suggest something better to do, I'll take 
 her to see them. I expect the poor child is weeping 
 at this moment in the hotel from sheer loneliness and 
 from having nothing to read except railway time- 
 tables." 
 
 Meldon was wrong. Marjorie was not weeping. 
 She was not even in the coffee-room, where she had 
 been left. 'He and Major Kent looked at each other 
 anxiously. 
 
 " There ! " said Meldon. " Now you've gone and 
 lost your niece. You'll have to be more careful 
 about her or there'll be trouble afterwards with your
 
 70 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 sister Margaret. She may have ten children, as you 
 say; she may have a dozen, but you'll find she'll re- 
 sent the loss of Marjorie." 
 
 A loud burst of laughter from the bar of the hotel 
 reached the coffee-room. 
 
 " I'll get those people to come and help to look for 
 her," said the Major. 
 
 He crossed the passage, followed by Meldon, and 
 pushed open the door which led to the bar. Round 
 the counter stood the landlord, two maids, the three 
 commercial travellers who had come in the train with 
 Marjorie, and several of the inhabitants of the town 
 of Donard. On the counter, picking her steps very 
 carefully among the glasses, was Marjorie. 
 
 " Hullo, J. J. ! " she said. " Hullo, Uncle John ! I 
 thought you were never coming." 
 
 " The young lady," said the proprietor of the hotel 
 apologetically, " was just showing us the way the cap- 
 tain did be walking about the deck of the steamer she 
 came home in." 
 
 " Marjorie," said the Major, " get down at once ! " 
 
 "I hope," said Meldon, "that you're convinced 
 now, Major, that your measles plan won't work. Is 
 that the kind of child who'd spend a day in bed when 
 she's perfectly well?" 
 
 Marjorie was lifted from the counter in the arms of 
 a grinning housemaid and deposited beside the Major.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 71 
 
 " Come along," said Meldon, taking her hand. 
 " We're going to see an ancient castle. It's a per- 
 fectly fascinating ruin of immense antiquity, full of 
 every sort of secret chamber and hidden cave, and 
 ghosts which walk at night in clanking chains." 
 
 The description evidently appealed strongly to Mar- 
 jorie. She passed out of the hotel at a run, dragging 
 Meldon after her. The Major followed. They were 
 obliged to stop several times in order that Marjorie 
 might admire some sight that was new to her. The 
 turf-laden carts excited her curiosity. The fact that 
 few of the children wore shoes and stockings aroused 
 in her a desire to take off her own. The castle, when 
 they reached it, proved disappointing. Nothing sur- 
 vived in the way of a secret chamber or a hidden 
 cave. No ghost put in an appearance. Meldon saw 
 Marjorie's face fall. He roused himself to provide 
 some entertainment for her. 
 
 " Let's play hide-and-seek," he said. " You and I 
 will hide and your Uncle John will seek for us." 
 
 "No," said Marjorie decidedly; "I'll seek! You 
 two can hide." 
 
 " Very well. Turn your face to that wall and don't 
 look round until we shout. Come along, Major." 
 
 Meldon climbed half-way up a broken stone stair- 
 case and stood hidden by a projecting corner of the 
 wall.
 
 72 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 "As soon as you're concealed, Major," he said, 
 " shout ' Cuckoo ' as loud as you can." 
 
 Several minutes passed in silence, and Meldon de- 
 scended to discover what had happened to the Major. 
 He found him wandering among the ruins, quite un- 
 able to decide on a hiding-place. 
 
 " Hurry up ! " said Meldon. " You mustn't keep 
 the poor child waiting there all day. Here, lie down 
 flat behind that stone flatter than that. Your 
 shoulders are sticking up, and she'll see you the 
 moment she turns round. Now, give me a min- 
 ute to get up my staircase again, and then shout 
 ' Cuckoo.' " 
 
 " I can't do that I really can't, J. J. It's it's 
 too ridiculous." 
 
 "You must. You'll have to play this game every 
 day more or less for the next six weeks except 
 Sundays, of course. You may as well get used to it 
 at once. When you undertake to entertain a child, 
 there's no greater mistake than to do the thing half- 
 heartedly. Buck up, Major, and throw yourself into 
 the game." 
 
 The Major shouted a feeble and wavering 
 "Cuckoo!" Marjorie started on her search and al- 
 most immediately discovered him. 
 
 " Run, Uncle John ; run ! " 
 
 "Where to? Why?"
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 73 
 
 " To the den, of course. Don't you understand the 
 game ? " 
 
 The Major ran. Mar j one pursued him. After an 
 exciting chase he took refuge breathlessly on Meldon's 
 staircase. Then Marjorie had them both at her mercy 
 and enjoyed her position immensely. The game went 
 on again and lasted till every possible hiding-place in 
 the ruin had been exploited. 
 
 " It's five o'clock," said Meldon. " Let's go and 
 get tea. Then we'll start for home." 
 
 It was nearly nine o'clock when the car reached 
 Ballymoy. Marjorie was sound asleep, with her head 
 on Meldon's shoulder. His arm was round her and 
 he had covered her with a rug. It was fortunate 
 that there were very few people in the street. If 
 Mr. Doyle or any other of the chief inhabitants 
 of the town had seen the position of Major 
 Kent's famous niece, the young lady's reputation 
 for propriety of conduct would certainly have suf- 
 fered. 
 
 " J. J.," said the Major, " how do you suppose that 
 Mrs. O'Halloran will take this this alteration in our 
 plans ? " 
 
 "It's very difficult to tell," said Meldon. "I 
 should say myself that if we'd told her at first that 
 your niece was a child she'd have packed up her box 
 and left you on the spot. As it is, I expect she'll be
 
 74 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 so relieved to find that she isn't a grown-up young 
 lady that she'll be quite kind to Marjorie." 
 
 " I hope she will," said the Major. " I expect, I 
 am confident she will. What I'm afraid of is that 
 she'll ill-treat you and me, especially me. Marjorie 
 will be a shock to her after all the preparations she 
 has made." 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran had, in fact, got over any shock 
 she may have received many hours before the car ar- 
 rived at Portsmouth Lodge. Jamesy Deveril, who 
 drove the spring-cart, brought home the news that 
 Miss Marjorie was no more than " a little slip of a 
 girleen, maybe ten year old, and maybe not that it- 
 self." Mrs. O'Halloran was at first very indignant. 
 The honour of Portsmouth Lodge, of which she felt 
 herself the [chief supporter, was in danger of being 
 brought into public contempt by Miss Marjorie's fail- 
 ure to come up to the descriptions given of her be- 
 forehand. After awhile her anger gave place to 
 anxiety. As the appointed time of the arrival passed 
 and hour after hour went by, she expressed fears 
 about the safety of the party. She despatched Mary 
 Garry again and again to " the top of the hill beyond 
 to take a look if there might be a car coming up along 
 the road." When, at last, she heard the wheels on 
 the gravel, she rushed from the kitchen to the front 
 door and assailed Major Kent and Meldon with an 
 outburst of indignant reproach.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 75 
 
 " What was on ye at all," she said, " to keep the 
 child out till this hour of the night? Have ye no 
 sense, the pair of yez? Here it is near ten o'clock 
 and the little lady ought to have been in her bed two 
 hours ago. Where have you her hid? Is it drink- 
 ing ye were beyond at Donard?" 
 
 " It was not," said Meldon, " but playing hide-and- 
 seek in the old castle." 
 
 " I wouldn't wonder at you to do the like, Mr. Mel- 
 don. Sure, everybody knows that you've no sense, no 
 more than the youngest gossure that does be going 
 to school. But the Major's old enough to know bet- 
 ter." 
 
 " Come here now, Mrs. O'Halloran," said Meldon, 
 " and take the child from me. I'm afraid to get off 
 the car with her the way she is. Stop your nonsense 
 and come here." 
 
 " Nonsense, is it? No, but sense, more sense than 
 ever came out of your mouth, for all you think you 
 can build a nest in a body's ear with your talk." She 
 took Marjorie in her arms. The child, half awakened, 
 began to cry. " Come then, alanav," said Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran. " Come to me, agra. Will you loose your 
 hold on her, Mr. Meldon? Haven't you made trou- 
 ble enough for one day with your hide-and-seek in 
 the old castle?" 
 
 " Take her," said Meldon. " Hold her carefully, 
 and don't drop her. Give her a cupful of hot milk
 
 76 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 more if she'll take it. Then put her to bed. And if 
 you can't do it yourself, get Mary Garry to help you." 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran stood speechless with Marjorie 
 in her arms. She looked at Meldon, and longed for 
 words which would express her feelings towards him. 
 She failed to find them. She turned and entered the 
 house in silence. 
 
 " Mind the step," said Meldon. " You'll trip over 
 the front of your dress if you don't take care. You'd 
 better let Mary Garry help you." 
 
 " Me," muttered Mrs. O'Halloran, " that has reared 
 six of my own. It beats all, so it does! The Lord 
 forgive the woman that was mother to the like of 
 him and sent him out to be the plague of the world. 
 Will you get away out of that, Mary Garry, from un- 
 der my feet? What would suit you would be to be 
 fetching the nightdress for the little lady that I have 
 airing before the kitchen fire. And when you have 
 that done you can go in and attend on the master and 
 Meldon. They'll be wanting something to eat after 
 their gallivanting and play-acting."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MELDON sat late that night at Portsmouth 
 Lodge. It was twelve o'clock before he suc- 
 ceeded in reducing the Major to what he called a 
 reasonable frame of mind. In the end it was settled 
 that the first, at least, of the parties for which invi- 
 tations had been issued should be held ; that Meldon 
 should undertake the duty of explaining to Doyle, 
 and through him to the Ballymoy public, that the 
 Major's niece was not a professional beauty but a 
 shabby-looking little girl of ten years old. He un- 
 dertook to make it quite clear that the Major himself 
 was in no way to blame for the disappointment which 
 would certainly follow the discovery of the truth 
 about Marjorie. 
 
 " I shall," said Meldon, " take the initiative in this 
 matter of explaining. Venienti occurrite morbo. 
 You know the maxim, Major; or very probably you 
 don't, as it's in Latin. But the advice is perfectly 
 sound. It may be freely translated in this way: If 
 you suspect that Doyle is going to tackle you, and 
 you have a weak position, don't wait, but dart in and 
 tackle Doyle." 
 
 "If you can get us out of the Lord Lieutenant 
 77
 
 ?8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 business, J. J., I hope you will. I can't tell you how 
 I shrink from that." 
 
 " I hardly expect to put a stop to the whole pres- 
 entation project. In fact, I don't intend to try. 
 My idea is to make such alterations in the plan as 
 will be suitable to the existing circumstances. I 
 shall see Doyle first thing to-morrow morning and 
 talk the matter over with him. I'll let you know how 
 I get on. I shall be out here in good time for the 
 tea-party in the afternoon. I'll see you safe through 
 that. And now I'll say good-night. Sleep sound, 
 Major. Nothing unpleasant can happen before to- 
 morrow morning anyhow, and I don't see why any- 
 thing unpleasant should happen then." 
 
 At half -past ten o'clock the next morning Meldon 
 walked into the hotel and called for Doyle. He had 
 a delicate and difficult negotiation before him and 
 intended to conduct it as skilfully as possible. It 
 was above all things necessary to avoid being apolo- 
 getic and to show no signs of anxiety. Therefore 
 he began the conversation without any reference to 
 the Major's niece. 
 
 " I called round," he said, " to tell you that I'm go- 
 ing out to Portsmouth Lodge this afternoon at about 
 three o'clock. I'm taking my dog, Maher-Shalal- 
 Hash-Baz, with me. I shall be very much obliged if 
 you'll lock up your brown terrier. I don't mind a
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 79 
 
 fight in the ordinary way, but I hate to have dogs 
 rushing up against the front wheel of my bicycle and 
 upsetting me in the middle of the road." 
 
 " I know a man down in Donard," said Doyle 
 slowly, " who'd be glad to buy that dog off you if 
 you were thinking of selling him." 
 
 " Well, I'm not." 
 
 "He'd give you ten shillings," said Doyle, "and 
 what's more he'd pay you back the half-crown you 
 spent on the license last March." 
 
 " You must be pretty flush of money, these times, 
 Doyle, if you'd give all that for a white dog, and 
 you with a brute of a terrier about the place already. 
 I suppose you think you're going to make a fortune 
 and all out of this visit of the Lord Lieutenant." 
 
 "Is it me? What would I do with your dog? 
 What I was saying was that a man away back in 
 Donard, a cousin of my own, wants him for killing 
 . rats." 
 
 " I know very well what you were saying, and I 
 know what you were meaning, too. What's more, I 
 know what you'd do with my dog if you had him. It 
 shows me the kind of man you are and the way you 
 stick at nothing. Just so as to have it to say that 
 your beast of a brown terrier could bite the head off 
 every dog in Ballymoy, you're prepared to spend ten 
 shillings, to spend twelve and sixpence and the price
 
 8o THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 of a dose of strychnine, to get hold of the one dog 
 in the place that can lick yours and always will." 
 
 "There's them that holds," said Doyle, "that the 
 clergy is the curse of this country, and that Ireland 
 will never be anything but a poor backward place till 
 we get rid of the whole pack of you, Catholic and 
 Protestant together. I'm coming to be very much 
 that way of thinking myself. Divil the man ever I 
 met but you'd get the better of him. It's too cute 
 you are. But what good is it to you at the latter 
 end? Listen to me now. What would you say if 
 we was to shut the two of them up in the cow-house 
 together, your white dog and my terrier, and lock 
 the door on them the way nobody would interfere 
 with them? Then they could have it out together in 
 peace and the town wouldn't be plagued after with 
 their goings on in the public streets." 
 
 " I'm surprised at your suggesting such a thing," 
 said Meldon. "You that's a magistrate, and the 
 chairman of the committee that's going to welcome 
 the Lord Lieutenant to the town. I didn't think 
 you'd propose to me to get up a dog fight. By the 
 way, I suppose you have it all settled about the pres- 
 entation of that address of welcome." 
 
 " The Lord Lieutenant," said Doyle, " is to be here 
 this day week, and her ladyship along with him. 
 Father McCormack had a letter about the visit yes-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 81 
 
 terday. We have the address ready. It was last 
 night it came down from Dublin in a packing-case. 
 I had it put up in the drapery window, instead of 
 the bicycle that the Major took away yesterday. You 
 might have taken notice of it as you came in." 
 
 " I did not notice it, but I'll take your word for it 
 that it's there all right. I suppose, now, your milliner 
 will put out those corsets again with a notice to say 
 that they're the same make that Lady Chesterton 
 always wears. If she does I expect Mrs. Ford will 
 buy a pair. She has a great respect for everything 
 connected with the Castle. She has to, of course, on 
 account of her husband's being an R.M." 
 
 Doyle took no notice of this suggestion. 
 
 " What I was wanting to speak to you about," he 
 said, "is the programme of the proceedings of the 
 day. I have it here drawn up and written out by a 
 nephew of my own, the young man that does be re- 
 porting the meetings of the Board of Guardians for 
 the Donard Gazette. He's got the job of sending an 
 account of the proceedings on the occasion of the 
 Lord Lieutenant's visit up to the Dublin papers. He 
 has it ready, all to one little bit, so as he won't be 
 behind with it when the time comes. I have it here 
 in my pocket, and if it's pleasing to you, I'll read it 
 out, so as you'll be able to tell the Major just what 
 it is that we're proposing to do, and then he'll know
 
 82 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 that it's all to be conducted decent and proper. Lis- 
 ten to me now. ' At twelve o'clock sharp the Vice- 
 regal party drove into the town in their luxuriously 
 upholstered motor-car, preceded by the town band in a 
 two-horse brake. The cortege reached the convent 
 gate, where a halt was called. The girls of the indus- 
 trial school ' all the whole lot of them in white 
 stockings and white cotton frocks 'rendered with 
 striking expression the touching song, " Come back 
 to Erin." ' That's a non-political song, Mr. Meldon, 
 and commits nobody to anything. The Major can't 
 have any objection to make to that." 
 
 "The Lord Lieutenant's an Englishman," said 
 Meldon, " and his wife's an American. What's the 
 good of telling them to come back to Erin, the land 
 of their birth?" 
 
 " Is that in the song? But sure what odds does it 
 make? Nobody minds the words of a song. For 
 the matter of that it's few ever hears the words of a 
 song, barring the singers themselves. Listen to me 
 now, till I go on with the report : ' When the proces- 
 sion moved on, Father McCormack had taken his seat 
 in the motor-car opposite the Lord Lieutenant.' 
 He'll be looking as affable as he's able. 'The band 
 then struck up " The Wearing of the Green." ' " 
 
 " That's a political song : not that I think the Lord 
 Lieutenant will mind."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 83 
 
 " He won't. Last Patrick's Day, when I was up 
 in Dublin, I seen a military band at the head of a 
 whole regiment of British soldiers in red coats, play- 
 ing that tune as if they'd burst with the pleasure of 
 it, on the north side of Stephen's Green, no less. Be- 
 lieve you me, they wouldn't have done the like of that 
 without they'd got their orders direct from the Castle, 
 so it's not likely the Lord Lieutenant will have any 
 objection. Where was I now? I've lost my place 
 and the handwriting is mighty crabbed. ' The next 
 halt was made at the door of the Imperial Hotel, 
 where a sumptuous luncheon awaited their Excellen- 
 cies and suite. ' " 
 
 " It seems to me, Doyle, that you're doing yourself 
 middling well in this business from start to finish. 
 You'll charge them five bob a head for that lunch, 
 not counting drinks, and all those white stockings 
 will have to be bought in your shop." 
 
 Doyle winked, so slowly and emphatically that his 
 right eye remained closed for nearly a quarter of a 
 minute. Then he went on reading from his nephew's 
 manuscript : 
 
 " ' At the door of the hotel stood Miss Marjorie 
 Purvis, the charming niece of Major Kent, Esq., 
 J.P., of Portsmouth Lodge, supported by the Rev. 
 J. J. Meldon, B.A.' " 
 
 " Right. I'll be there ; but tell your nephew to put
 
 84 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 in T.C.D. after the B.A. I'm most particular about 
 that." 
 
 " ' Major Kent, Esq., J.P. ' " 
 
 " I'm not so sure of him. If I were you I wouldn't 
 forward the account to the newspapers till you've 
 actually seen the Major supporting his niece." 
 
 "'Mr. Doyle, J.P., Chairman U.D.C., and other 
 prominent citizens of Ballymoy. Miss Marjorie Pur- 
 vis, who held in her hand an address of welcome, 
 beautifully illuminated in a chaste Celtic design by 
 Messrs. O'Donovan & Smiles of Dublin, wore a gown 
 
 of ' The young fellow that wrote that out said 
 
 he'd have to rely on you to let him know beforehand 
 what the Major's niece's dress is made of and the 
 colour of it. I suppose now it's all right about her 
 presenting the address?" 
 
 " It is," said Meldon. " There'll be no hitch about 
 that. I'll rehearse it with her." 
 
 "There now," said Doyle. "Doesn't that just 
 show the way the people of this town will take the 
 greatest delight in telling lies? Would you believe 
 it, Jamesy Deveril, the same that's the Major's 
 groom, was round and in and about last night putting 
 it out that the Major's niece was no more than a little 
 slip of a girl, maybe ten year old and maybe not that? 
 I said to them that told me, that I'd see you, Mr. 
 Meldon, and if I didn't ;care to be asking the question
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 85 
 
 of you right out, and I wouldn't, I'd draw the subject 
 down in the course of conversation." 
 
 " As a matter of fact," said Meldon, " I've been 
 thinking for some time back that it would be a great 
 deal better for us if the Major's niece turned out not 
 to be quite grown up." 
 
 Doyle looked at him suspiciously. Meldon felt 
 that he had reached the critical point of his explana- 
 tion. He pulled himself together and spoke with an 
 air of deep conviction. 
 
 " What we want," he said, " is to give the Lord 
 Lieutenant a thoroughly happy day, the sort of day 
 he'll look back on in after-years as one of the most 
 agreeable he ever spent. Now I need hardly tell you, 
 Doyle, that the Lord Lieutenant's enjoyment will 
 largely depend on the amount of pleasure we give his 
 wife. You agree with me there, I suppose?" 
 
 " I wouldn't say but that may be right enough," 
 said Doyle cautiously. 
 
 " Very well. Now what is it that Lady Chesterton 
 really likes? It isn't the town band playing tunes. 
 She hears better tunes every day of her life at the 
 Viceregal Lodge in Dublin. It isn't seeing magis- 
 trates and Urban District Councillors in their best 
 clothes. It isn't getting illuminated addresses. They 
 simply bore her. She has whole stacks of them piled 
 away in one of the back rooms of the Castle. It
 
 86 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 isn't any lunch you'd be likely to give her, for she's 
 accustomed to a solid four-course meal every day at 
 that hour in her own home. What is it then? 
 What do you know about the real tastes of the 
 lady?" 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder but I know as much as 
 you do." 
 
 " You do not then. I don't set up to be a regular 
 tame cat in Dublin Castle, an aide-de-camp or a Vice- 
 regal chaplain, or a State dentist, or anything of 
 that sort, with a right to the private entree at the 
 levees; but I've carefully considered the habits of 
 every Lord Lieutenant's wife who has ruled Ireland 
 since I was a boy, and I give it to you as my opin- 
 ion that there's nothing any of them really enjoy so 
 much as kissing little girls." 
 
 " I never heard the like of that in all my born 
 days!" 
 
 " It's true all the same. Read the newspapers, 
 Doyle. I'm always saying that to you, but you don't 
 do it. Read the accounts of the receptions given to 
 every Lord Lieutenant's wife who visits anything 
 convent, technical school, hospital, or any other mor- 
 tal thing and you'll find that if there's a little girl 
 on the premises anywhere the Lord Lieutenant's wife 
 kisses her. I've known her pick out one from the 
 middle of a crowd on a railway-station platform and
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 87 
 
 kiss her on the spot. Now would she do that if she 
 didn't like it?" 
 
 " I've heard of it being done," said Doyle. " I 
 don't deny that." 
 
 " Very well. Now if we provide a grown-up 
 young lady in other words, if Miss Marjorie Pur- 
 vis had turned out to be the age we were led to ex- 
 pect the Lord Lieutenant's wife couldn't very well 
 have kissed her. I've felt that difficulty all along, 
 though I didn't like to throw cold water on the plans 
 you had made by saying anything about it. But now 
 that the Major's niece turns out to be just exactly 
 the age and size that Lord Lieutenants' wives like 
 best, why it's a jolly good thing for us, and we ought 
 to be thankful. It will make all the difference in the 
 success of the party. Besides " 
 
 " You'll excuse me interrupting you," said Doyle, 
 "but Father McCormack " 
 
 " I'll come to him in a minute," said Meldon. 
 " What I want to say just now is this. Your nephew 
 wants to know what sort of a dress the Major's niece 
 intends to wear, so that he can put a description of it 
 in his report for the Dublin papers. As it happens, 
 she hasn't brought a really suitable dress with her. 
 What I propose is to get her one and to order it from 
 your dressmaker. That'll be as good as a pound into 
 your pocket, net profit."
 
 88 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " It will, of course," said Doyle. 
 
 "The Major won't jib at the bill, whatever it is. 
 On an occasion of this sort he'll want to do the thing 
 decently. I wouldn't wonder if you made a clear 
 thirty shillings on the dress." 
 
 "And what will it be like?" said Doyle. "On 
 account of my nephew, who's writing up the report 
 of the proceedings, I'd be glad to have a description 
 of the dress." 
 
 " It'll be white white muslin trimmed with silk. 
 You may put it down as ' a simple but charming white 
 frock, relieved with bows of blue ribbon and gath- 
 ered at the waist with a sash of the same colour.' 
 Will that do you?" 
 
 Doyle inserted the description of this toilet into 
 his nephew's manuscript. 
 
 "I'd say green for the ribbons," said Meldon, 
 "only that the Major's such a strong Unionist I'm 
 afraid he'd object. But anyway, you and I know 
 that blue is the real national colour of ancient Ire- 
 land. Green's a mere modern invention." 
 
 "Blue will do," said Doyle; "but you'd better 
 bring her in to the dressmaker as soon as you can. 
 There's a lot of dresses ordered for the girls up at 
 the convent." 
 
 "Right. I'll have her in to-morrow morning. 
 And now about Father McCormack. This alteration
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 89 
 
 in the Major's niece will have to be explained to him, 
 and you'd better do it. You needn't go into all that 
 about the kissing. It wouldn't interest him, and he 
 mightn't like it ; though, of course, he couldn't say 
 there was anything actually wrong about it, even if it 
 was the Lord Lieutenant himself that did it. Kissing 
 at that age isn't at all what it becomes later on. But 
 it might be better not to mention it. The thing for 
 you to say to him is this: Considering that the main 
 object of the Viceregal visit to Ballymoy is the 
 amelioration of the Irish child, we thought it better 
 that the Major's niece, who is to present the address 
 of welcome, should be a child herself. He'll see at 
 once that that's quite reasonable." 
 
 " I'll tell him that," said Doyle, " and if anybody 
 else says a word " 
 
 " Nobody else will. If you and I and Father Mc- 
 Cormack and the Lord Lieutenant's wife are satis- 
 fied, I don't see that it's anybody else's business to 
 make a row." 
 
 " Nobody'd dare. If anybody did " 
 
 "You'd deal with him. You and Father McCor- 
 mack between you. Very well, then, we'll consider 
 all that settled. I must be getting on now, for I've 
 a lot to do. Good-bye, Doyle. Next Tuesday. I'll 
 make a note of the day so that there'll be no mistake, 
 and you'll see Father McCormack."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MELDON arrived at Portsmouth Lodge at 
 half-past three in the afternoon. He left 
 Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz and his bicycle outside the 
 hall door and walked straight into the study. Major 
 Kent sat in a chair near the window and smoked 
 moodily. His copy of the Times, which had arrived 
 an hour before, lay unopened on the table. It was 
 plain that he was suffering from an acute fit of de- 
 pression. 
 
 " J. J.," he said reproachfully, "you said that you 
 could manage girls. Now is the time for you to 
 show that you were speaking the truth." 
 
 " I said I understood girls," said Meldon ; " I never 
 said I could manage them. No man living can man- 
 age a girl if she has made up her mind not to be 
 managed. At the same time, I don't anticipate any 
 difficulties with Marjorie. She struck me yesterday 
 as remarkably tractable and amenable. All you have 
 to do is to show her that a thing is really for her 
 good and she'll do it at once without grumbling." 
 
 "All right," said the Major grimly. "Here's a 
 letter from my sister Margaret. It's written from 
 Paris and it arrived here by the midday post. In it 
 90
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 91 
 
 she says she hopes I'll see that Marjorie washes her 
 teeth regularly every morning when she gets up and 
 every evening before she goes to bed. She wastes 
 half a sheet of good notepaper explaining to me why 
 teeth should be washed, and recommending different 
 sorts of tooth-powder. Now, J. J., what do you 
 think of that? And I may tell you that's only the 
 beginning. There's more later on." 
 
 "There's no particular difficulty about that. I 
 don't myself attach undue importance to the washing 
 of teeth or anything else. I think there's a lot of 
 time wasted in the world washing things that don't 
 really need to be washed, especially perhaps teeth. 
 In all these matters the great thing is to follow the 
 guidance of nature. If we'd been meant to wash our 
 teeth there'd have been some sort of brush arrange- 
 ment fitted to our tongues so that the process, would 
 have gone on automatically every time we talked. 
 However, that's not the point. The child's mother 
 has a perfect right to decide whether Mar j one's 
 teeth are to be washed or not. All you have to do 
 is to follow out her directions." 
 
 "Do you mean to suggest, J. J., that I'm to go 
 prowling into the girl's bedroom every morning and 
 evening and examining her toothbrush to see whether 
 she's used it or not ? " 
 
 " No," said Meldon, " I don't suggest anything of
 
 92 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 the sort. Your plan is to ask her at breakfast 
 whether she's done the deed or not. Marjorie is a 
 truthful little girl. You can see that by looking at 
 her. She'd tell you at once; and if you found that 
 she was shirking her duty in the matter you should 
 take the necessary steps afterwards." 
 
 "Perhaps you'll ask her." 
 
 " No, I won't. I'm not her uncle. Coming from 
 me, a complete outsider, a question of that sort would 
 be a gross impertinence. It would scarcely be de- 
 cent. Marjorie would certainly resent it, and get to 
 dislike me." 
 
 " So far you've not turned out to be very much use 
 to me," said the Major. "The next thing I am to 
 see is that Marjorie eats slowly." 
 
 "Why? Is she inclined to bolt her food?" 
 
 " I don't know. How can I possibly know a thing 
 like that? Margaret says she's to chew each mouth- 
 ful seventeen times before she swallows it. I don't 
 know how you feel about that, J. J., but I simply 
 can't sit opposite a child at table and count how often 
 she moves her jaws. It would look as if I grudged 
 her the bit she eats; and besides, I'd never get a 
 comfortable meal myself." 
 
 "Is there anything else?" said Meldon. "Let's 
 have the whole thing at once, and not exhaust our- 
 selves by discussing each detail separately."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 93 
 
 " I'm to see," said the Major, " that she wears her 
 blue dress only on Sundays, and her cotton frocks 
 are to last her three days each before they're 
 washed." 
 
 " That's simple enough, anyhow. You've only got 
 to go at night and lock up all the dresses she isn't to 
 wear, and then she must put on the right one in the 
 morning." 
 
 " It's not so simple at all. As a matter of fact, 
 she has on the blue dress this minute, and has been 
 wearing it all morning." 
 
 " Let's ring the bell," said Meldon, " and get up 
 Mrs. O'Halloran. If the child's clothes are to be 
 changed, either she or Mary Garry must do it. We 
 can't." 
 
 " You'd better be quick," said the Major. " Mrs. 
 Ford and the rest of the tea-party may be here at 
 any moment." 
 
 " Come on," said Meldon, " we'll go into the 
 kitchen and interview Mrs. O'Halloran there." 
 
 After making a few preliminary remarks about the 
 weather and the condition of the crops, which seemed 
 to have rather an irritating effect on Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 Meldon seated himself on the corner of the kitchen 
 table and opened his subject. 
 
 "It's the Major's particular wish," he said, "that 
 Miss Marjorie should wash her teeth thoroughly
 
 94 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 morning and evening with the toothbrush provided 
 for the purpose. Also that she should chew all her 
 food seventeen times before swallowing it, and never 
 be hurried over her meals. Also that she should 
 wear her blue dress only on Sundays, and the others 
 turn about for three days each." 
 
 " The Lord save us and deliver us ! " said Mary 
 Garry, who had retired from the kitchen when Mel- 
 don entered it, and now stood in the scullery door- 
 way. 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran remained severely silent. 
 
 " The Major expects," Meldon went on, " that you 
 will see his wishes in these matters punctually and 
 exactly carried out you and Mary Garry between 
 you." 
 
 Mary Garry exploded into a convulsive giggle and 
 retired to the depths of the scullery. 
 
 " If you've nothing better to do," said Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran, " than to spend your time coming into a de- 
 cent woman's kitchen and talking to her like a born 
 omadhaun, it's a pity of you ! Here I am with the 
 sweat running down off my face striving to get ready 
 the tea for them that you're bringing down on the 
 top of what was a quiet and peaceable house till you 
 took to disturbing it, and as if that wasn't enough, 
 you must come in here on me with a pack of folly 
 the like of which I never heard ! "
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 95 
 
 " It's not folly," said Meldon. " It's sound com- 
 mon-sense. And, what's more, it's what the Major 
 wishes done." 
 
 " You may talk," said Mrs. O'Halloran, " and you 
 may swear it any way you like ; but if you talked and 
 if you swore till you was to raise blisters on the front 
 of the [close range beyond there, I wouldn't believe 
 that the Major God bless him! ever thought of 
 the like of that." 
 
 Meldon looked round for support, but got none. 
 Major Kent had slipped quietly out of the kitchen. 
 Mary Garry's head, surmounted by the white cap 
 with the long streamers, appeared again at the scul- 
 lery door. 
 
 "Well," said Meldon, "you're right so far. The 
 plan didn't, so to speak, originate with the Major. 
 Mind you, I expect he would have hit on pretty much 
 the same things if he had sat down quietly and 
 thought the matter out. It happens that he didn't, 
 and all I've just said to you is written down in a 
 letter from Miss Marjorie's mother which came by 
 post to-day." 
 
 "Arrah, get out!" said Mrs. O'Halloran. "Is it 
 the child's mother? No, but it's yourself. There 
 isn't in the inside of the four seas of holy Ireland 
 another but just yourself that would have thought of 
 such divilment."
 
 96 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " If you don't believe me," said Meldon, " I'll go 
 and get the letter and show it to you." 
 
 " You might. You might get twenty letters, and 
 twenty more on the top of them, and you might 
 spread the whole of them out on the floor in front of 
 me so as a hen wouldn't be able to step in between 
 them the way they'd be covering the flags; but you 
 wouldn't get me to believe that there's e'er a woman 
 such a fool as you'd like to make out the Major's 
 sister is. Haven't I had six childer of my own, and 
 don't I know what belongs to the rearing of them ? " 
 
 " I'll get the letter," said Meldon, " and maybe 
 that will convince you." 
 
 " Get it, then. Get it, if you like. But you'll not 
 convince me, as you call it. Glory be to God! I 
 couldn't read the letter if I had it, and it's well you 
 know that same. Unless it's print, and big at that, 
 I couldn't read it. So you'll not impose on me with 
 your letters. Musha, but there's the bell, and the 
 company at the door, and the tea not wetted. Mary 
 Garry, will you go and answer the door, and will you 
 put that white cap with the ribbons to it straight on 
 the top of your head before you go, if so be that 
 there's any straightness in the like of it? That's 
 more of your work, Mr. Meldon, making the poor 
 girl, whose father is a decent man and all her people 
 respectable making her look like a play-actor out
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 97 
 
 of one of them circuses. Go on with you, Mary 
 Garry, and don't be delaying. When you have Mrs. 
 Ford and the rest of them set out in the drawing- 
 room and the Major opposite to them, you can come 
 back to me here, and I'll give you the teapot and the 
 sup of cream to take to them." 
 
 " Mrs. O'Halloran," said Meldon, " where's Miss 
 Marjorie?" 
 
 " Let the child be. She's where she ought. She's 
 playing herself." 
 
 " That's all very well ; but she's got to come in to 
 see the ladies. Either you or I must go and get her. 
 Where is she now?" 
 
 "The last I seen of her," said Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 " she and Paudeen Canavan, the boy, was coursing 
 the black polly calf round the tennis court, as you 
 call it, with the help of the white dog that came out 
 along of yourself." 
 
 " Her blue dress will be ruined ! " said Meldon 
 " utterly destroyed, and the Major will never hear the 
 end of it." 
 
 " The master says," said Mary Garry at the kitchen 
 door, addressing Meldon, " will you go to him this 
 minute in the drawing-room." 
 
 " Mrs. O'Halloran," said Meldon, " for the sake 
 of the credit of the family and the good name of the 
 house that shelters you, will you get Miss Marjorie
 
 98 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 and mend her up a bit before Mrs. Ford sees her? 
 You'll never be able to hold up your head in the 
 country again if the R.M.'s wife gets a sight of that 
 child in the state she'll be in after coursing calves 
 with Paudeen Canavan and Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz." 
 
 " When I've wetted the tea," said Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 " I'll go after her. If there's a second pot wanted, 
 Mary Garry, you'll have to wet it yourself. The ket- 
 tle's on, and it's boiling." 
 
 The scene in the drawing-room when Meldon en- 
 tered it was depressing. On the sofa, with their 
 backs to the window, sat Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Cosgrave, 
 and Mrs. Gregg. Opposite them, on a low stool, 
 was Major Kent. Near the door stood Mr. Ford, 
 the Resident Magistrate, and Mr. Gregg, the police 
 officer, with their hands in their pockets. In the 
 middle of the room was the tea-table, covered with 
 cups, sancers, and an abundance of cakes. 
 
 " You look," said Meldon, " as if you were play- 
 ing some kind of game and the Major was trying to 
 guess the word you'd thought of. Hullo, Ford ! 
 Hullo, Gregg! I didn't see you behind the door. I 
 suppose, now, that you're waiting for your turns till 
 the Major has given it up." 
 
 Mrs. Ford greeted Meldon frigidly. She was a 
 lady with a strong sense of propriety, which his man- 
 ners were continually outraging. Mrs. Gregg, who
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 99 
 
 was younger, permitted herself a wavering smile. 
 In her heart she wished she was playing a game of 
 some sort. The Major's efforts at polite conversation 
 wearied her. Mrs. Cosgrave sighed deeply. Her 
 husband's bronchitis was worse than usual. The im- 
 possibility of educating her children was weighing 
 upon her heavily. Her outlook upon life was gloomy. 
 
 Mary Garry entered with the tea. 
 
 " I hope," said Mrs. Ford, " that Miss Purvis will 
 be here to make tea for us." 
 
 The Major had already apologised for his niece's 
 absence. His courage failed him when he reached 
 the point at which it was necessary to explain that 
 she was not of an age to pour out tea for a party. 
 
 " Will she be in soon, J. J. ? " he asked feebly. 
 
 " She will," said Meldon ; " but don't wait for her. 
 She doesn't care about pouring out tea, in any case. 
 She'd much rather you did it, Mrs. Ford. I know 
 you can, for I saw you pouring out gallons on the 
 day of the school feast. By the way, Mrs. Cosgrave, 
 have you ever gone into the subject of how often 
 food ought to be chewed before it's swallowed? 
 There is an extraordinary difference of opinion on 
 the subject. The Major's sister, Mrs. Purvis, says 
 that every morsel ought to be masticated seventeen 
 distinct times." 
 
 Mrs. Cosgrave sighed again. Mr. Ford, who was
 
 ioo THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 a singularly well-informed man, took up the subject. 
 
 "The late Mr. Gladstone/' he said, "used to at- 
 tribute his good health and great mental vigour to 
 
 the fact that he chewed My goodness! What's 
 
 that?" 
 
 A loud shriek rang through the room, followed by 
 another, and then a series of anguished appeals for 
 help. 
 
 "It's all right," said Meldon; "that's Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran's voice. I've often heard her giving directions 
 to Mary Garry, and I should recognise the way she 
 speaks anywhere. There's not likely to be anything 
 wrong. I expect she's found Miss Purvis and 
 Paudeen Canavan cutting the throat of the black 
 polly calf. Sit down, Mrs. Ford; there's nothing to 
 disturb yourself about." 
 
 Mr. Gregg, with the instinct of a policeman paid 
 to maintain law and order, jumped out of the window 
 at the first alarm. He returned obviously in a state 
 of high excitement. 
 
 " They've got your filly, Kent," he shouted " the 
 chestnut filly, and they're galloping her round the 
 lawn." 
 
 "Who?" said the Major. "Get a gun, J. J. ! 
 Shoot the ruffians! That filly's worth a hundred 
 pounds this minute." 
 
 Then he, followed by Mr. Ford and Mrs. Gregg,
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 101 
 
 who was young and active, got out through the win- 
 dow. Meldon conducted Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cos- 
 grave decorously through the hall door. 
 
 At the gate of the paddock stood Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 shrieking wildly. Mary Garry rushed across the 
 grass, also shrieking, her white streamers waving like 
 flags in the breeze. She had the dinner-gong in her 
 hands and was beating it violently. Paudeen Can- 
 avan was urging the Chestnut filly to a gallop, strik- 
 ing at her flanks with a stick. Maher-Shalal-Hash- 
 Baz, barking with mad excitement, was leaping at 
 the filly's nose. Marjorie, mounted bareback, was 
 cheering and enjoying herself enormously. 
 
 " It's all right," said Meldon " she's quite safe. 
 She has a seat like a monkey, and there's no vice in 
 the filly. Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Ford. Here, 
 Gregg, catch that boy Canavan and wallop him with 
 his own stick. Don't spare him. He's an orphan, 
 so nobody will take an action against you after- 
 wards ! " 
 
 "My God!" said the Major. "Can't somebody 
 do something ? " 
 
 " We're all doing what we can," said Meldon. 
 " Ford, you catch my dog. He's exciting the filly. 
 Just be careful how you grip him. He very nearly 
 had the hand bit off Doyle last week. Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran, will you stop shrieking? It's all your fault
 
 102 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 If you'd taken that child upstairs and washed her 
 teeth when I told you, this wouldn't have happened. 
 Now, Mrs. Gregg, if you could manage to get a hold 
 of Mary Garry you might sit on her head till she's 
 quiet, and then tie her hand and foot with the rib- 
 bons of her cap and apron. I always knew those 
 things would come in useful somehow. I'll creep 
 up to the filly and get the child off her back." 
 
 Gregg was the first of the party to accomplish his 
 allotted task. The wails which arose from the mouth 
 of Paudeen Canavan gave such satisfaction to Mrs. 
 O'Halloran that she stopped shrieking to listen to 
 them. Mr. Ford pursued Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz to 
 the remotest corner of the paddock and seemed in 
 some danger of becoming heated in the chase. Mrs. 
 Gregg, by the exercise of much tact, persuaded 
 Mary Garry to leave the paddock, sit down on the 
 gravel, and stop beating the dinner-gong. Meldon 
 approached the filly cautiously, uttering words of en- 
 dearment which seemed to have a soothing effect on 
 the animal. He succeeded at length in lifting the 
 laughing Marjorie from her baclc He set the child 
 on the ground and surveyed her solemnly. 
 
 " Marjorie," he said, " you've torn a hole in your 
 blue dress the length of your arm. I don't believe 
 you've washed your teeth once to-day; and just when 
 you ought to be sitting in the drawing-room, chewing
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 103 
 
 bits of cake seventeen times you're off riding a wild 
 horse in a field. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" 
 " Come on, J. J.," she said, taking his hand confi- 
 dently, " and let's get the cake. I'm hungry."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 PAUDEEN CANAVAN suffered a great deal at 
 the hands of Mr. Gregg. He was sorry that 
 he had tut so stout a stick for the purpose of bela- 
 bouring the chestnut filly. His lamentable howls di- 
 verted Marjorie's mind from thoughts of cakes. She 
 stopped on her way into the house and demanded par- 
 don for her accomplice. 
 
 " Please, J. J., tell the man not to beat poor Paudeefl 
 any more; I can't bear him to be hurt." 
 
 "Paudeen richly deserves every whack he gets," 
 said Meldon ; " it's good for boys to be beaten." 
 
 " But I don't think he likes it." 
 
 " He doesn't. If he did, there'd be no point in go- 
 ing on, but the less he likes it the more good it is 
 for him. You may take my word for it, Marjorie, 
 he'll be glad afterwards. Everybody is glad after- 
 wards. If I hadn't been well whacked when I was 
 a boy I shouldn't be the man I am now." 
 
 Marjorie still hung back. 
 
 " Please," she said, " don't beat him any more." 
 
 " If it's any comfort to you to know it," said Mel- 
 don, " I don't mind telling you that he's only howling 
 now for the love of the exercise. Mr. Gregg stopped 
 104
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 105 
 
 beating him more than a minute ago. He broke the 
 stick in two and there wasn't another handy." 
 
 " Come on, then, and let's get our cake. I'll take 
 a bit out to Paudeen afterwards." 
 
 "Hullo, Major!" said Meldon. "Hullo! all you 
 people. Marjorie and I are going in to get some 
 tea. Come on, Mrs. Ford, and pour it out for us." 
 
 Ford, giving up the chase of the dog, joined Gregg 
 and the Major. Mrs. Gregg, whose spirits had been 
 improved by her conflict with Mary Garry, returned 
 to the drawing-room, as she had left it, through the 
 window. Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cosgrave went into 
 the house together by the door. 
 
 " I thought," said Mrs. Cosgrave, " that the Ma- 
 jor's niece was grown up." 
 
 " So we were certainly given to understand," said 
 Mrs. Ford, " but if that is the way she rides, perhaps 
 it's as well that she isn't." 
 
 Marjorie had of necessity, since there was no sad- 
 dle, adopted the seat on horseback favoured by lady 
 warriors of primitive times and by certain modern 
 sportswomen whose portraits grace the illustrated pa- 
 pers. 
 
 " She's very young," said Mrs. Cosgrave apologet- 
 ically. 
 
 " Still, it's not a nice way to ride. I shouldn't like 
 my little girl to do it, and she's only six."
 
 io6 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Mrs. Cosgrave adopted a bolder line of defence. 
 
 " She comes from Australia," she said. " Perhaps 
 Australian ladies " 
 
 "No, they don't," said Mrs. Ford. 
 
 She sat down opposite the tea-table and looked at 
 Marjorie with strong disapproval. 
 
 " Now," said Meldon, when everyone had been pro- 
 vided with tea and cake, " we have three ladies here. 
 Which of them will volunteer to mend the tear in 
 Marjorie's blue dress? Neither the Major nor I are 
 any good at sewing." 
 
 Marjorie's escapade had the effect of brightening 
 the wits of the whole party. There were jokes made 
 by Ford and Gregg about the torn dress and the 
 coursing of the calf. Mrs. Gregg crossed the room 
 and sat down beside Marjorie. 
 
 " Will you be so good, Mrs. Gregg," said Meldon, 
 " as to see that she chews that piece of cake seventeen 
 times at least? As she has now arrived at a solid 
 chunk of almond icing, it might be as well to chew 
 it twenty times. Ought a little girl to eat almond 
 icing in large quantities, Mrs. Ford ? " 
 
 Even Mrs. Ford thawed a little. She hinted at an 
 invitation to Marjorie to spend the day with her lit- 
 tle girl. Marjorie, hearing that the friend proposed 
 for her was only six years old, did not seem particu- 
 larly pleased. The tea-party began to bore her.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 107 
 
 " If you've finished, J. ].," she said, " will you come 
 and take some cake to poor Paudeen and some to 
 the white dog ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Gregg will come too," said Meldon as he 
 rose. " Don't you fret about Marjorie, Major. 
 We'll take her out and keep her safe, and Mrs. Gregg 
 will mend the blue frock to-morrow." 
 
 The astonished Paudeen was given two large 
 slices of cake. He had retired to the stable to nurse 
 his bruises and was only discovered after a long 
 search. There was no difficulty about finding Maher- 
 Shalal-Hash-Baz. He lay with his tongue out in the 
 middle of the paddock. His eyes were fixed on the 
 door through which Mr. Ford had disappeared. He 
 was evidently ready for another chase as soon as any- 
 one cared to pursue him. He also was fed with cake. 
 
 " Marjorie," said Meldon, " would you like to pre- 
 sent an address of welcome to the Lord Lieutenant's 
 wife?" 
 
 " Should I be dressed up," said Marjorie, " the 
 same as I was at the charades we had last year?" 
 
 "Not perhaps in the same costume," said Meldon. 
 " But you would be dressed up. What I had in my 
 mind for you was a white frock with blue ribbons." 
 
 " I'd rather be a fairy," said Marjorie, " with gold 
 wings and a star in my hair, and a wand and shiny 
 things all down my front."
 
 io8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " I'm more or less committed to the white frock," 
 said Meldon. " Still, the fairy dress might be man- 
 aged if your heart is set on it. I don't suppose the 
 account of the reception is actually in print yet. The 
 question is, could the dressmaker in Doyle's shop 
 make a fairy costume? What do you say, Mrs. 
 Gregg?" 
 
 " She'd look sweet," said Mrs. Gregg, " but perhaps 
 it wouldn't do. The Major mightn't like it." 
 
 " He'd love it," said Meldon. " All he wants is to 
 have the business carried through in the best possi- 
 ble style. Besides, in any case he won't be there. 
 He never puts in an appearance at things of the 
 kind." 
 
 " Fairies," said Marjorie, " have gold shoes, and 
 their wings are made so as you can see through them, 
 with gold spots on them. I do want to be a fairy." 
 
 " I'd love to dress her up," said Mrs. Gregg. 
 
 " I am sure," said Meldon, " that the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant will be delighted. So will Lady Chesterton. 
 They are coming here to ameliorate the children, and 
 they're sure to be pleased if we have one child ready 
 ameliorated before they come. You can't ameliorate 
 a child more than by making her into a fairy." 
 
 " I know I have a lot of tinsel and stars laid by 
 somewhere," said Mrs. Gregg. " I had them for 
 tableaux vivants before I was married."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 109 
 
 " Very well," said Meldon, " we'll consider that set- 
 tled. You'll come round here to-morrow morning at 
 eleven, Mrs. Gregg, and drive Marjorie in to the 
 dressmaker. Bring all the gold and silver gauze you 
 have. I'll leave the whole matter in your hands, and 
 I'm sure you'll do it admirably." 
 
 "But the Major " 
 
 " I'll settle with the Major. You can leave that en- 
 tirely to me. I'll see Doyle about the matter too. 
 I'll tell him that Marjorie will be dressed as an Irish 
 fairy of the most strictly patriotic kind, either as 
 Maeve or Granuaile, or one of the Tuath de Danaan 
 princesses. I'll get him to sound Father McCormack 
 about having some of the convent-school girls down 
 to act as a body of attendant leprechauns." 
 
 " What is a leprechaun? " said Marjorie. " I don't 
 know if I'd like leprechauns." 
 
 " Mrs. Gregg," said Meldon, " will explain to you 
 the nature and habits of leprechauns while she drives 
 you in to Ballymoy to-morrow." 
 
 " But I'm afraid I don't " 
 
 Meldon interrupted the lady's confession of ig- 
 norance. 
 
 " If you'll forgive my saying so, you ought to. 
 There's no excuse nowadays for any person of aver- 
 age education who doesn't know what a leprechaun is. 
 The country is simply inundated with literature about
 
 i io THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 them. You won't, of course, get an article on the 
 subject in that encyclopaedia which Mr. Gregg was 
 fool enough to buy. It's hopelessly out of date. 
 But take any poet Irish poet or artist and you'll 
 find all you could possibly want to know about the 
 habits, tastes, and personal appearance of the ordinary 
 leprechaun." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Mrs. Gregg, " we'd better be go- 
 ing back into the house. Major Kent and the others 
 will be wondering what's become of us." 
 
 They found Mrs. Ford in the act of taking leave 
 of her host. Mrs. Cosgrave, who was driving home 
 with her, had already said a sorrowful good-bye. Mr. 
 Ford was in the yard harnessing his cob with the 
 help of Paudeen Canavan. 
 
 " Major," said Meldon, after the departure of the 
 three elder guests, " Mrs. Gregg is going to take Mar- 
 jorie for a drive to-morrow morning. Remember to 
 see Mrs. O'Halloran this evening and arrange with 
 her about the poor child's hat and gloves and things." 
 
 " Mother says I needn't wear gloves," said Mar- 
 jorie, " except on Sundays." 
 
 " Very well," said Meldon, " I should have said 
 myself that wearing gloves was much more important 
 than washing teeth; but, of course, if your mother 
 says you're not to wear them, you needn't." 
 
 When the Greggs drove away a few minutes later,
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE in 
 
 Marjorie announced that she was going into the 
 kitchen to learn to make potato-cake. 
 
 " Mrs. O'Halloran promised she'd teach me," she 
 said, " as soon as ever she had a minute to herself." 
 
 " J. ]." said the Major, " come into the study and 
 have a pipe. Stay and dine with me, like a good 
 fellow. I'd like to have a talk with you." 
 
 "If you have it in your mind," said Meldon, " that 
 you'll persuade me to see after Marjorie's teeth to- 
 night, you may give the idea up at once. I've spoken 
 to her twice this afternoon on the subject, and I'll 
 do no more." 
 
 " It's not that. It's but come and smoke." 
 
 " Look here," said the Major firmly when his pipe 
 was lit. "I can't and won't stand any more of 
 this. I've put in a very trying afternoon talking to 
 Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cosgrave. I've talked till 
 till " 
 
 " Till your tongue clave to the roof of your mouth. 
 That's in the Psalms. You ought to know the Psalms 
 better than you do. They'd often help you out when 
 your feelings are too strong for ordinary words." 
 
 " I've had an awful fright. I thought the chestnut 
 filly would be lamed and the child killed. I can't go 
 through many more days like this. I have made up 
 my mind to get a competent woman of some sort to 
 look after Marjorie while she's here a governess
 
 ii2 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 or a lady companion, or a mother's help. I shall ad- 
 vertise to-morrow." 
 
 " I'll tell you what to do," said Meldon. " Invite 
 my little girl down for a month. She'd come like a 
 shot for the sake of being near me, and she'd simply 
 love Marjorie." 
 
 " No," said the Major decidedly. " She'd turn out 
 to be worse than Marjorie. I'd have two of them on 
 my hands then instead of one." 
 
 " Gladys Muriel is quite grown up." 
 
 "I've only your word for that, and, to put the 
 thing quite plainly, I don't trust you. You said Mar- 
 jorie was grown up, and look at what she turns out." 
 
 "Hang it all, Major, be reasonable! I'm engaged 
 to be married to Gladys Muriel. How could I pos- 
 sibly be engaged to her if she was only ten years 
 old?" 
 
 " Anyhow, what I want is someone who's not only 
 grown up but elderly. I want a woman with grey 
 hair, who has some sense of responsibility." 
 
 " If you bring one of that sort into the house," 
 said Meldon, " Mrs. O'Halloran will leave at once. 
 Don't be so frightfully despondent. Nothing very 
 bad has happened yet, and I don't expect that any- 
 thing will." 
 
 "You don't know my sister Margaret." 
 
 "You're thinking of the tear there is in the blue
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 113 
 
 dress," said Meldon. " Now I'll tell you what to do 
 about that. You sneak up to-night when the child's 
 asleep and collar the dress. Do it up neatly in a 
 brown-paper parcel and take it in to-morrow to 
 Doyle's dressmaker. Tell her to make another dress 
 exactly similar in all respects barring the tear, of 
 course. When she has finished, keep it yourself in 
 a safe place until the time comes for Mrs. Purvis to 
 see it. Then slip it in among Marjorie's other 
 clothes, and nobody will be a bit the wiser." 
 
 " It's not only the dress," said the Major ; " it's a 
 lot of other things. It's Mrs. Ford. I could see that 
 she disapproved strongly of the way in which I was 
 treating Mar j one. She looked at me this afternoon 
 in the most frightful manner. If she gets a chance 
 of talking to Margaret and she may when the Pur- 
 vises come to get the child I shall be " 
 
 " If you like," said Meldon, " I'll go round to Mrs. 
 Ford to-morrow morning and tell her that if she so 
 much as looks crooked at Marjorie I'll get Doyle to 
 speak to the Lord Lieutenant and have Ford jolly 
 well cleared out of this. As President of the League 
 in this locality, Doyle has, of course, a lot of influence 
 with the Government, and if Father McCormack 
 backs him up as I haven't the slightest doubt he 
 will the thing will be as good as done. The Fords 
 know that just as well as you and I do."
 
 ii4 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Nothing on earth would induce me to do any- 
 thing of the sort. Do you think I'd go on my knees 
 to a fellow like Doyle?" 
 
 " You needn't do that. All that's required is to let 
 me threaten Ford that if his wife goes on making her- 
 self objectionable to Marjorie " 
 
 " No," said the Major decisively. " After all, J. J., 
 Mrs. Ford is only a small part of the trouble. How 
 do I know what Marjorie will do next?" 
 
 " You and Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary Garry be- 
 tween you ought to be able to keep an eye on her 
 from breakfast-time to-morrow morning till eleven 
 o'clock. Then Mrs. Gregg will have charge of her 
 till luncheon. After that you can turn her on to learn 
 to ride the bicycle you bought her. Paudeen Can- 
 avan can run up and down alongside of her and keep 
 her from falling. It will be fine exercise for him, 
 and from what I've seen of Marjorie I think she's 
 likely to keep him at it once she gets him started. 
 When he'd had three hours or so of that work, hell 
 not be so keen as he was this afternoon on coursing 
 calves and chasing fillies. He'll be looking out for 
 some more sedentary occupation. I shall be busy to- 
 morrow and may not be able to get out to Portsmouth 
 Lodge myself, but you'll find that if you follow the 
 plan I've laid down nothing really unpleasant will 
 happen,"
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was two o'clock when Meldon sat down to din- 
 ner on the day after the tea-party at Portsmouth 
 Lodge. The meal had been ready for him at half- 
 past one, and there was nothing to prevent his eating 
 it at that hour except his dislike of punctuality. The 
 postmaster's wife, who had a kind heart and knew 
 that cold chops are considered unpalatable, remon- 
 strated with him. He explained to her at some 
 length a favourite theory of his. He held that the 
 human soul is degraded by bondage of any kind, and 
 the obligation to observe fixed hours, even when self- 
 imposed, is a particularly vicious kind of slavery. 
 The explanation occupied some time, and it was not 
 until a quarter-past two that Meldon actually uncov- 
 ered his chops. Before he had begun to eat Mr. 
 Doyle tapped at the door and entered the room. 
 
 "Where were you all morning?" he said in an 
 aggrieved tone. " I was looking for you since 
 twelve o'clock, and sorra the man or woman seemed 
 to know where you had hid yourself. I wanted to 
 speak to you about the presenting of this address to 
 the Lord Lieutenant and his lady." 
 
 " I was engaged," said Meldon grandly, " in pur- 
 115
 
 n6 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 suing my professional avocation. I was performing 
 the duties for the sake of which I am placed here in 
 Ballymoy. You mustn't suppose I've nothing to do 
 but run round cleaning up the mess you make in ar- 
 ranging for the Lord Lieutenant's visit. That busi- 
 ness may seem very important to you, Mr. Doyle, but 
 I've other things to think of though, of course, if 
 you and Father McCormack are in any kind of trou- 
 ble, I'll be delighted to help you out." 
 
 "What's this I hear from the dressmaker?" said 
 Doyle. " She was round with me at a quarter to 
 twelve with some talk about fairies or such." 
 
 " I don't know what she may have said, or how 
 you may have misunderstood her, or what sort of a 
 muddle you may be making of the matter between 
 you, but the plain facts of the case are these: Your 
 dressmaker, acting under the directions of Mrs. 
 Gregg, is putting together for the Major's niece a 
 dress such as the early Irish fairies habitually wore, 
 and in that costume Miss Marjorie Purvis will pre- 
 sent your illuminated address to the Lord Lieutenant's 
 wife." 
 
 "Well I'm damned!" 
 
 " I don't deny," said Meldon, " that you very prob- 
 ably will be. But I strongly object to your saying 
 so. I can't stand bad language, and if you insist on 
 using it you'll go straight out of this room with the
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 117 
 
 toe of my boot pressed against the seat of your 
 breeches; and what's more, I'll set on Maher-Shalal- 
 Hash-Baz to worry the life out of your brown dog 
 the next time I catch sight of him. I detest swear- 
 ing." 
 
 "I'll not be made a fool of," said Doyle, "with 
 your fairies and your play-acting. What I say is that 
 the thing must be done decent or not at all." 
 
 " If you weren't a fool already without making of 
 any kind, you'd be up this minute at the convent with 
 the reverend Mother arranging to have a troop of 
 attendant leprechauns to wait on the Major's niece 
 when she's presenting the address." 
 
 " Who wants fairies ? Is it likely, now, that Father 
 McCormack will put up with such nonsense? I tell 
 you now, Mr. Meldon, we'll have the whole country 
 laughing at us. Fairies, is it? And leprechauns! 
 It's enough to set every newspaper making jokes and 
 drawing pictures of us. We'll never hear the end 
 of it." 
 
 " Look here ; I'm eating my dinner. I'm half-way 
 through one chop, and there's another in the dish in 
 front of me. I'll talk to you till I have the second 
 one eaten, and two potatoes along with it, and after 
 that out you'll go. I haven't time to waste over 
 you." 
 
 "You'll talk. I wouldn't doubt you."
 
 ii8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 "First of all, then, III say this. I know a jolly 
 sight better than you or Father McCormack, or any- 
 one else in Ballymoy, how Lord Lieutenants ought to 
 be treated. I don't suppose you ever spoke to one 
 in your life, and if Father McCormack has talked to 
 two of them, it's as much as he's done. When I say 
 that fairies are the proper thing you may take it that 
 they are. You set up to be president or vice-presi- 
 dent of half a dozen different leagues, as well as be- 
 ing Chairman of the Urban District Council and an 
 ex-ofiitio magistrate, but you're an utterly uneducated 
 man. It's just as well for you to realise that fact at 
 once. You don't know what's going on in Ireland 
 outside of your own wretched board-room. As it 
 just happens, every intellectual man in the country at 
 the present moment is simply devoted to folk-lore and 
 popular mythology and esoteric mysticism generally. 
 You probably don't know what those sciences are, but 
 I'll tell you. They're fairies, pure unmitigated 
 fairies which, of course, includes leprechauns 
 and nothing else. Very well. The Lord Lieutenant 
 naturally wants to associate with intellectual men. 
 That's what brings him to Ireland. He knows that 
 there's more real genius in Ireland than anywhere 
 else. You have the usual old-fashioned notion in 
 your head that Dublin Castle is full of landlords go- 
 ing up the front stairs, priests going down the back
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 119 
 
 stairs, and politicians waiting about in the basement 
 storey expecting to be made into County Court 
 judges. That's what you think; and, of course, 
 you're perfectly right as to the facts. Where you 
 make the mistake is in supposing that the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant likes that kind of thing. He doesn't. He 
 puts up with it simply because he's paid to put up 
 with it. In reality he hates the whole business. The 
 sight of a landlord turns him actually sick, and he's 
 so fed up with priests and politicians that he wouldn't 
 care if every one of the whole crew was at the bot- 
 tom of the sea with some kind of a floating tomb- 
 stone anchored to his dead body. What he really 
 wants what he indulges in when he gets away by 
 himself to a quiet place where nobody sees him is 
 poets and philosophers; that is to say, the men who 
 will talk to him freely about really interesting things 
 fairies, the earth-spirit, and everything else of that 
 kind." 
 
 At this point Meldon helped himself to his second 
 potato and handed the bone of his first chop to Maher- 
 Shalal-Hash-Baz. Doyle, a little bewildered, waited 
 in silence until the discourse began again. 
 
 " Now, as the Lord Lieutenant drives along here 
 in his motor-car, what do you suppose he's saying? 
 You don't know ; but I'll tell you. ' Smith/ he says, 
 or 'Jones,' or 'Robinson,' or whatever his private
 
 lao THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 secretary's name is, 'who shall we be likely to meet 
 to-day at Ballymoy ? ' The secretary turns up his 
 notebook and tells His Excellency that he'll be re- 
 ceived by Major Kent, Father McCormack, and Mr. 
 Doyle. ' Do you hear that, my dear ? ' says the Lord 
 Lieutenant to the marchioness ; ' the same old lot a 
 landlord, a priest, and a politician. We'll be bored 
 to tears as usual.' ' It can't be helped,' says the lady. 
 'After all, we're earning our living by it. The sal- 
 ary's not bad, and the Viceregal Lodge is a pleasant 
 place enough when we get it to ourselves.' 'That's 
 all very well,' says he. ' I'm not shirking my duty, 
 and I don't intend to; but in a country like Ireland, 
 full of romantic possibilities, with the Celtic glamour 
 oozing out of every bog in it, and the most fascinating 
 folk-lore in the world running to absolute waste, why 
 can't the people get up something in the way of a 
 pageant? If there was a man with a spark of orig- 
 inality about him in Ballymoy, he'd have us met at 
 the door of Mr. Doyle's Hotel the Imperial, it's 
 called by a procession of fairies.' That is the sub- 
 stance of the conversation which will be going on in 
 the Viceregal motor-car as it drives along the road 
 towards Ballymoy. You see my point, don't you? 
 You understand now why I'm running the Major's 
 niece as a fairy. You'll find that you'll get more 
 money out of their excellencies for ameliorating the
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 121 
 
 lot of the Ballymoy child if you follow my advice and 
 have a proper troop of fairies to meet them. Just 
 you toddle off and explain the matter to Father Mc- 
 Cormack and the reverend Mother. Get the thing 
 done. Mrs. Gregg will design the dresses for you, 
 and you may take my word for it you won't be sorry 
 afterwards." 
 
 Doyle allowed himself to be hustled from the room. 
 He was not in the least convinced of the suitability of 
 the demonstration which Meldon proposed. He felt 
 as strongly as ever the absurdity of setting up a little 
 girl in a muslin frock and tinselled wings to receive 
 the representative of the British Sovereign at the door 
 of a public-house. But previous experience had con- 
 vinced him that there was nothing to be gained by 
 opposing any plan which Meldon was determined 
 to [carry out. He foresaw that unless he gave way 
 at once his life for the next few days would be made 
 unbearable by the continuous flow of Meldon's argu- 
 ments. The peace of Father McCormack's presby- 
 tery would be disturbed. Even the sanctuary of the 
 convent might be invaded ; and in the end, after all 
 tempers had been worn thin by opposition, there 
 would be a troop of fairies headed by the Major's 
 niece waiting for the Lord Lieutenant. Doyle had 
 known Meldon for two years, and he had no doubts 
 at all about the ultimate issue of the matter.
 
 122 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Nor had Meldon himself. 
 
 " It's rather a nuisance," he murmured, when Doyle 
 had left him. " I wish Marjorie hadn't set her heart 
 on dressing up as a fairy. However, that can't 
 be helped now. The poor little thing is having a dull 
 time of it out at Portsmouth Lodge, and I'm bound 
 to see that she gets any little pleasure she happens 
 to fancy." 
 
 There was a tap at the door and Major Kent en- 
 tered. Meldon, who was filling his pipe, laid it on 
 the floor and stood up. 
 
 "Nothing wrong with Marjorie, I hope?" 
 
 " No," said the Major. " So far as I know she's 
 all right. I told Mrs. O'Halloran to give her her 
 dinner at half-past one, and then to turn her loose 
 for the afternoon with Paudeen and the bicycle. I 
 came into town to wire to Dublin for a governess. I 
 told you I was going to, and I'm glad now that I 
 have." 
 
 "All right,'* said Meldon. "You'll be sorry after- 
 wards, but you will have your own way. In all prob- 
 ability the governess will marry you before you get 
 her out of the house." 
 
 " I can't help it if she does," said the Major. " I 
 must have her. I've got another letter from Mar- 
 garet. It was given me in the post-office just after 
 I'd sent off the wire, and it made me feel glad I'd
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 123 
 
 done it, whatever the (consequences to myself may be." 
 
 He drew a bulky package from his pocket. 
 
 " That seems a longish letter," said Meldon. 
 
 " It's not all letter. In fact, the letter itself is very 
 short. The rest of the parcel is pamphlets and mag- 
 azines, and directions for use. I haven't read them, 
 of course, but that's what they look like. I thought 
 perhaps you'd run your eye over them with me." 
 
 " Certainly. It'll be a pleasure." 
 
 " Perhaps I'd better tell you what is in the letter 
 before you read the papers. It's very short. Mar- 
 garet says she forgot to mention that she is a mem- 
 ber of the Parents' Union, and that she hopes I'll 
 carry on Margaret's education according to the sys- 
 tem outlined in the enclosed papers." 
 
 "That's all right," said Meldon. "I needn't read 
 them. I understand the system perfectly. I made a 
 special study of it at one time. You needn't have 
 bothered getting a governess for that. You'll be able 
 to work it quite well yourself. Any intelligent and 
 moderately well-informed person could." 
 
 " I'll get the governess all the same." 
 
 " It's ten to one if you happen upon one who under- 
 stands this system. Simple as the thing is, very few 
 regular governesses do. They pretend they don't 
 anyhow. Professional jealousy, you know. Where 
 did you wire to ? "
 
 i2 4 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " To ' O. G. Box 241, Office of the Irish Times,'" 
 said the Major. " She had an advertisement in yes- 
 terday's paper, and I thought she'd suit." 
 
 Meldon collected the fragments of the paper which 
 lay scattered about the room, and found the advertise- 
 ment column headed " Tuition, &c." He ran his eye 
 down it. 
 
 " * Wanted holiday engagement/ " he read, " ' by a 
 young lady employed in a high-class school. Satis- 
 factory references offered. Address O. G. Box 241, 
 this Office.' That's your damsel, I suppose." 
 
 "That's her. She sounds all right, doesn't 
 she?" 
 
 "I suppose when you were wiring you said, 
 'Knowledge of the Parents' Union system of educa- 
 tion essential,' and 'Nature study a sine qua non'f 
 Nature study is one of the most characteristic fea- 
 tures of the system." 
 
 "No, I didn't. I didn't get Margaret's letter till 
 after I'd sent the wire." 
 
 " Oh, well, never mind. I'll explain it to her when 
 she arrives. But keeping a governess won't get you 
 off your share of the work. That's another of the 
 features of the system." 
 
 " I can't do it." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you can. The great idea is this. Al- 
 ways impart instruction to the child under your
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 125 
 
 feharge, whether she's supposed to be learning lessons 
 or not. For instance, we'll say that you and Mar- 
 jorie are out for a walk together and you meet a 
 snail. Marjorie naturally picks up the snail. Un- 
 der the old system of education it would have been 
 your duty to tell her to drop the snail at once. * Lit- 
 tle girls,' you would have said, 'ought not to play 
 with snails.' But that way of dealing with children 
 is quite out of date. As a member of the Parents' 
 Union, you encourage Marjorie to examine the snail. 
 You tell her to poke her little finger into the shell 
 and find out what's there." 
 
 " She'd do that in any case." 
 
 "Not if you told her to drop the snail. She'd 
 drop it. Next, you stick the lighted end of your 
 cigar against the snail's shell so as to make it poke 
 out its head. Then in every way you can think of at 
 the moment you make the snail show its points and 
 trot about just as if it was a horse that Marjorie 
 was thinking of buying from you." 
 
 " I don't quite see," said the Major, " where the 
 education comes in." 
 
 " Of course, all the time Marjorie is fiddling with 
 the snail you are explaining the nature of the crea- 
 ture and its uses in simple language. You tell her 
 that the French eat snails, but that she, not being 
 French, doesn't. You mention that the slug, though
 
 126 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 very like the snail in flabby sliminess, differs from it 
 in not having a shell." 
 
 " She'd know that without my telling her." 
 
 " She would, of course, but she'd be much too po- 
 lite to tell you so. She'd recognise that you were do- 
 ing your duty towards her, and she'd respect you for 
 it. She'd pretend to be frightfully interested in what 
 you were saying, and when you went on to tell her 
 the story about the snail which raced with the tor- 
 toise she'd give you to understand she'd never heard 
 it before." 
 
 "Was it a snail which ran the race with the tor- 
 toise? I always thought it was a hare." 
 
 " It was a hare in the original, and, of course, if 
 it happened to be a hare which Marjorie picked up 
 you'd have told the story in what I may call the 
 authorised version. But as you are on the subject 
 of snails, and not hares, you have to adapt the narra- 
 tive to your circumstances." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "After you've told her all you know about the 
 snail, you go on walking until you meet something 
 else. Then you start on it. It's a magnificent sys- 
 tem. No walk is ever the least dull, and Marjorie is 
 learning the whole time without knowing it." 
 
 "It seems to me," said the Major, "that we'd be 
 a long time getting anywhere."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 127 
 
 " You would, of course. In fact, if you do the 
 thing properly, you'll never get more than a few yards 
 away from your hall-door before it's time to go home 
 again. But if you really want to get anywhere, you 
 either have to stop being a member of the Parents' 
 Union for the time, or else not take Marjorie with 
 you." 
 
 " I'm not sure that I think much of that system of 
 education, J. J." 
 
 " Well, nor do I. It bores the parents a lot, and 
 it must be perfectly maddening for the child. You 
 can't wonder that the ordinary governess, who has 
 been brought up herself on Butter's spelling and the 
 dates of the Kings of England, rather despises it. 
 The child hardly ever meets a king out walking, and 
 so gets no instruction on royal families. I don't my- 
 self set an excessively high value on kings. I'm not 
 a fanatic on the subject. I believe a man might be 
 a good man enough for all practical purposes without 
 knowing the date of George I. Still, kings have 
 their place in any proper education, and I must say 
 I think the Parents' Union, with that hand-to-mouth 
 system of theirs, undervalues kings." 
 
 " Marjorie," said the Major, with a grin, " will 
 have the advantage of meeting a Lord Lieutenant." 
 
 " Yes. That's the very next thing there is to a 
 king. In fact, for educational purposes he is in some
 
 128 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 ways better than a real king. He is sure to be af- 
 fable, being selected for his office principally for that 
 reason ; whereas a king who comes into his job merely 
 by being born to it, may be as cross as a bear." 
 
 "I hope," said the Major, "that you'll take the 
 opportunity o{ this Lord Lieutenant's visit to give 
 Marjorie a lesson on kings, in the sort of way you 
 have just been explaining to me. I'm sure you'd do 
 it well." 
 
 Meldon treated this suggestion, which was meant 
 for a sarcasm, with contempt. 
 
 "When does Miss O. G. arrive?" he asked. 
 
 " I told her in my wire to come as soon as possible. 
 I practically offered her her own terms and took her 
 word for it that the references were all right."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MARJORIE ate her dinner under the eyes of 
 Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary Garry untrou- 
 bled by any advice as to how she ought to chew. At 
 her own special request she was allowed to have the 
 meal in the kitchen. This would probably have 
 shocked any right-minded member of the Parents' 
 Union, but Mrs. O'Halloran knew nothing of the 
 later theories of education, and, having successfully 
 reared six children of her own, had no idea whatever 
 of the sacred responsibility of those in charge of the 
 young. She even allowed Marjorie to choose her 
 own food. Major Kent, who had some ideas of his 
 own on the subject of nursery diet, ordered a chicken, 
 boiled, and a rice-pudding. When he was told that 
 no chicken was available he left the arrangement of 
 the menu to Mrs. O'Halloran, stating at the same 
 time that he would not himself be at home for lunch- 
 eon. Mary Garry, after consultation with Mrs. 
 O'Halloran, asked Marjorie what she would like. 
 She chose sardines on toast, to be followed by 
 whipped pream and raspberry- jam. There were no 
 sardines in the house, so Paudeen Canavan was sent 
 into Ballymoy with orders to get a box at Mr. Doyle's 
 129
 
 130 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 shop and bring it home in his pocket. This errand 
 was the cause of an argument between Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran and Jamesy Deveril. Paudeen, who was called 
 a yard boy, though his duties in the Major's estab- 
 lishment were very varied, was supposed to be under 
 the control of Jamesy Deveril. 
 
 Jamesy had been at the forge, getting new shoes for 
 the cob, on the previous day, while Paudeen was 
 helping to course the black calf and to bridle the 
 chestnut filly. On discovering what had been done 
 in his absence he had beaten Paudeen severely, hit- 
 ting much harder, and finding the tenderest spots 
 more skilfully than Mr. Gregg. He intended to 
 make life very bitter and irksome to Paudeen for 
 sevieral days afterwards, and was annoyed at the 
 boy's escaping to go on a message into Ballymoy. 
 
 " He'll be spending the whole of the morning at 
 it," he said bitterly to Mrs. O'Halloran, " and me 
 wanting him to be shifting dung in the barrow. 
 Why couldn't you send Mary Garry if there's com- 
 mands to be done in the town ? What good is a great 
 stravaguing lump of a girl like her about the place if 
 she's not fit to be sent into the town on a message ? " 
 
 "Is it Mary Garry?" said Mrs. O'Halloran. 
 "And if I send her, who's to brush the Major's 
 clothes for him, and clean up after the mess the com- 
 pany made in the drawing-room yesterday, and wash
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 131 
 
 two pair of stockings for Miss Marjorie, and shell 
 the peas for the dinner to-night, and answer the door 
 and polish the silver teapot, and iron out one of them 
 aprons aprons indeed! no, but pinafores! that 
 Meldon, bad luck to him, fetched out for the poor 
 girl to wear? Tell me that now, Mr. Jamesy Dev- 
 eril." 
 
 Jamesy was a reasonable man. He was forced to 
 acknowledge that Mary Garry's duties were more 
 varied than those he had planned for Paudeen. 
 Mrs. O'Halloran pursued her advantage. 
 
 " So you may leave the dung where it is for an- 
 other day, for you'll not get Paudeen in the evening 
 no more than the morning. As soon as ever he has 
 his dinner ate, he's to be out on the road teaching 
 Miss Marjorie to ride the bicycle." 
 
 " I'd have thought she'd have had riding enough 
 to content her yesterday without wanting bicycles 
 after. What would hinder her to sit quiet in the 
 house and let Paudeen do his work?" 
 
 " Them's the Major's orders anyway ; and if you 
 don't like them it's to the Major you'd better be 
 speaking." 
 
 "Well, but childer is an upset in a house. Divil 
 the thing can be got done right the way it ought to be 
 done when there's the like of them to be humoured." 
 
 " You may say that," said Mrs. O'Halloran. " I'm
 
 132 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 after rearing six of my own, and I know well that 
 there's neither ease nor comfort where they are." 
 
 Thus Paudeen escaped a task which in the bruised 
 condition of his body would have been a painful one 
 for him, and spent a pleasant morning sauntering 
 along the road between Ballymoy and Portsmouth 
 Lodge. In the afternoon he was forced to bestir 
 himself more actively. Marjorie rapidly acquired 
 such mastery of the bicycle as enabled her to make 
 short and erratic rushes at high speed. Steering 
 proved a great difficulty, and the ditches at the sides 
 of the road seemed to have a strong attraction to the 
 machine. It was Paudeen's duty to prevent any 
 kind of catastrophe. The afternoon was hot, and 
 the work was much harder for him than it was for 
 Marjorie. There were moments when he wished 
 himself back in the yard under the eye of Jamesy 
 Deveril. The demands on his activity there were in- 
 termittent. Jamesy, having duties of his own, could 
 not always watch his subordinate. When he was at 
 work elsewhere it was Paudeen's habit to rest, sit- 
 ting on the handles of the barrow or on any con- 
 venient stone. Marjorie allowed him no breathing- 
 time. No sooner had he saved her from a crash 
 which seemed inevitable than she was off again, and 
 Paudeen was obliged so he described his experi- 
 ence to Mary Garry at tea-time " to make after her
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 133 
 
 if it was the last breath I could squeeze out of my 
 body." 
 
 But of the joy of learning to ride a bicycle there 
 comes satiety at last, even when the learner is an 
 active child of ten years old. Marjorie dismounted, 
 breathless and dishevelled, and addressed the perspir- 
 ing Paudeen. 
 
 " I'm tired of the old bike," she said ; " let's go 
 and explore somewhere." 
 
 Paudeen was uncertain as to the exact meaning of 
 the proposal, but he had a strong suspicion, based on 
 the experience of the day before, that any plan made 
 by Miss Marjorie would be likely to end in trouble 
 for him. 
 
 " I'd be afeard," he said. " I might be bet." 
 
 " Mr. Gregg isn't here," said Marjorie. " There's 
 nobody to beat you. You're not afraid of Mrs. 
 O'Halloran, are you? or Mary Garry?" 
 
 " Mary Garry dursent," he said ; " and what's more, 
 she wouldn't be fit." 
 
 He was prepared to assert the dignity of his sex 
 against her at any time. With regard to Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran he was less confident. He recollected certain 
 shrewd blows given with rolling-pins or other weap- 
 ons, and the arm of Mrs. O'Halloran was strong. 
 But he would not humble himself before Miss Mar- 
 jorie by admitting that he feared any woman.
 
 134 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Mr. Deveril'd beat me," he said. 
 
 Marjorie tossed her head. She refused to ac- 
 knowledge that Mr. Deveril had any right to control 
 her actions. It did not occur to her that he might 
 possess the power of life and death over Paudeen. 
 
 " Come on," she said ; " we'll go down to the sea." 
 
 Paudeen yielded, foolishly. He might have known 
 the story of his remotest ancestor's first transgres- 
 sion should have warned him that he would not be 
 able to evade punishment afterwards by saying " The 
 woman tempted me." The blame might be, would 
 be, justly and properly hers alone, but no man from 
 the days of Adam down has escaped the consequences 
 of evil-doing by urging that plea. 
 
 "You take the bike into the yard," said Marjorie, 
 " and leave it there. I'll wait for you." 
 
 " She'd see me," said Paudeen, " and Mr. Deveril 
 would see me, and then I'd be bet, the way I was 
 bet yesterday, only worse." 
 
 "You're a little coward. I'll take it myself, and 
 you can wait. 
 
 The taunt was too much for Paudeen. He was 
 prepared to run a very considerable risk rather than 
 suffer it. He took the bicycle and wheeled it up the 
 drive towards Portsmouth Lodge, but courage, even 
 taunt-driven, has its limits. He stopped short at a 
 place out of sight of the kitchen windows, and de-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 135 
 
 posited the bicycle under a tree. Then he returned 
 to Marjorie. They crossed two fields hand in hand, 
 and arrived at the shore of the little bay in which 
 Major Kent's Spindrift lay at anchor. If Paudeen 
 had been a member of the Parents' Union, and there- 
 fore anxious to increase Marjorie's interest in nature- 
 study, the sandy shore of the bay would have offered 
 him a splendid opportunity. It was strewn with the 
 corpses of jelly-fish, and Marjorie's curiosity was im- 
 mediately aroused. She had never before come across 
 jelly-fish, and she wanted to know all about them. 
 Unfortunately Paudeen had been brought up on a 
 bog many miles from the sea, and marine biology 
 has not as yet been imposed on Irish National 
 schools as part of the regular programme of 
 instruction. He had but one piece of information to 
 offer. 
 
 " Them ones stings," he said. 
 
 Marjorie only half believed him. She urged him 
 to take one up in his hand and demonstrate that it 
 did sting. Paudeen was most unwilling to make the 
 experiment. He would have waded through a bed 
 of nettles bare-legged; he would have faced the dan- 
 gers of attacking a wasps' nest; but a jelly-fish was 
 an unknown creature, and its sting might easily be 
 worse than anything he had ever experienced. He 
 hesitated.
 
 136 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " You're a little coward," said Marjorie for the 
 second time. Then she took up one of the jelly-fish 
 very cautiously in her own hand. 
 
 " Mind it, Miss," said Paudeen, in an agony of ap- 
 prehension. " Arrah, leave go of it ! Sure, the bites 
 of them is terrible." 
 
 Either because it was dead, or because it was not 
 a venomous kind of jelly-fish, it lay passive and harm- 
 less in Marjorie's hand. She prodded it with her 
 finger, squeezed it, rolled it into a ball, submitted it 
 to every kind of indignity possible to a jelly-fish, and 
 yet it did not sting. Finally, with a gesture of con- 
 tempt, she flung it at Paudeen. It occurred to him as 
 possible that, though the jelly-fish abstained from of- 
 fering any kind of violence to a young lady like Miss 
 Marjorie, it still might sting him. Yet he would not 
 admit himself the inferior in daring of a girl several 
 years younger than he was. With a show of careless 
 boldness he too picked up a jelly-fish, examined it, 
 and flung it into the sea. Marjorie took another and 
 threw it at him ; then another, and another after that 
 Soon she was pelting him with jelly-fish. Coming 
 quite close to him she blobbed the creatures into his 
 face. Paudeen loathed the feel of them ; yet, so great 
 was his instinctive chivalry and respect for the Ma- 
 jor's niece, he flung no jelly-flsh at her. Only, lest
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 137 
 
 the game should lose its delight through being alto- 
 gether one-sided, he too gathered jelly-fish and threw 
 them over and past Miss Marjorie. 
 
 At last the sport palled. The remaining jelly-fish 
 were left to perish in peace, and for a delightful half- 
 hour Marjorie and Paudeen launched empty limpet- 
 shells in the sea. Every single shell was swamped 
 immediately. Even when Paudeen heroically waded 
 out up to his knees to get beyond the broken water 
 of the wavelets no limpet-shell survived afloat for 
 more than a single instant. He got very wet much 
 wetter than Marjorie, because once in a moment of 
 ecstasy he stepped quickly backward and sat down 
 in shallow water. What view the managing commit- 
 tee of the Parents' Union would have taken of the 
 condition of Marjorie's shoes and stockings it is im- 
 possible to say, but no doubt an enthusiast might 
 have seized the opportunity of giving a profitable ex- 
 position of the laws which govern the buoyancy of 
 limpet-shells. 
 
 Further adventures became necessary after some 
 hundreds of limpet-shells had been launched and 
 swamped. 
 
 " Is there," said Marjorie, " a cave anywhere about 
 a smuggler's cave ? " 
 
 "I never heard tell of the like," said Paudeen,
 
 138 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " though I wouldn't say but what there might. They 
 do say there was Fenians and such in it the time of 
 the Land League." 
 
 " Then let's look for their cave. We'll go on look- 
 ing till we find it, and then we'll play at being smug- 
 glers and Fenians." 
 
 They found no cave, but in the course of their 
 search they came upon the Major's punt. The oars 
 had been carried up to the coach-house, but by lift- 
 ing the floor-boards they provided themselves with all 
 they required for a voyage on dry land. Paudeen, 
 convinced that he had now earned a beating so se- 
 vere that no further iniquity could make it any worse, 
 flung himself with ardour into the new game. Act- 
 ing under Marjorie's orders, he rowed, spread sails, 
 pulled ropes, fired guns, captured after a desperate 
 conflict a pirate craft, and finally accomplished a 
 shipwreck on a desert island. In the course of these 
 manoeuvres it was discovered that the punt, which lay 
 heeled on one side, could by violent and combined 
 exertion, be made to rock over and lie on her other 
 side. Some instinct warned Paudeen that this rock- 
 ing was far from beneficial to the punt. He under- 
 stood nothing about boats, but his experience of life 
 had taught him that anything which is rapturously 
 pleasant to do is extremely injurious to the thing it 
 is done to. Nothing could have been pleasanter, for
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 139 
 
 instance, than coursing the black polled-Angus calf 
 round the tennis-court. It therefore turned out after- 
 wards that the game was harmful both to the calf 
 and the lawn. He knew in his heart that it could not 
 be right to leap from one side of the punt to the 
 other, and bear her down with a bump upon the 
 stones which strewed the upper part of the beach. 
 His conscience made a last effort to assert itself. 
 
 " We'll be bet," he said, " the both of us, for sure." . 
 
 He included Marjorie in the prophecy, not because 
 he really believed that Mrs. O'Halloran, Mr. Gregg, 
 the Major, or even Jamesy Deveril himself would 
 dare to take a stick to her, but because he hoped to 
 induce her to stop rocking the punt. He failed. 
 Marjorie continued, and commanded him to continue, 
 leaping from side to side of the boat and swaying her 
 over, until the novelty of the thing completely wore 
 off. Then she proposed that they should launch the 
 punt and voyage in her to the Spindrift. Paudeen 
 made but a feeble protest. 
 
 "We'll be drownded," he said, "if we do, for the 
 water is terrible strong, and there was a man 
 drownded in it one time, and it wasn't for a week 
 after that they found him." 
 
 He did not really fear drowning. It is said to be 
 an easy and pleasant death, and life, after the after- 
 noon's adventures, was likely to be hard for Paudeen.
 
 i 4 o THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 He and Mar j one seized the punt, and, after immense 
 toil, succeeded in dragging her several yards down 
 the beach towards the sea. The success of their en- 
 terprise seemed assured. They would, no doubt, 
 have actually launched the boat if they had not been 
 interrupted. The sound of the Major's dinner-gong, 
 beaten vigorously, startled them. They stopped tug- 
 ging at the punt, and looked behind them. Far off, 
 a solitary figure, silhouetted on the sky-line against 
 the setting sun, stood Mary Garry with the gong in 
 her hands. She had climbed the hill behind Ports- 
 mouth Lodge, and was sounding a clamorous sum- 
 mons. 
 
 " Run," said Paudeen " run as if the divil was 
 after you and Meldon's white dog along with him." 
 
 Marjorie knew little of the devil, and had no fear 
 whatever of the dog; but she recognised the wisdom 
 of the advice. Paudeen grasped her hand, and they 
 fled together across the fields. Reaching the road, 
 they felt it wise to proceed more cautiously. They 
 crept along the ditch. Paudeen's idea was to get the 
 bicycle, if possible, before they were seen. Once in 
 possession of it, they might assume an air of con- 
 scious rectitude and leave the authorities to infer 
 that the whole afternoon had been innocently spent 
 in learning to ride. He explained his plan to Mar- 
 jorie as they crawled along the ditch.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 141 
 
 " Mary Garry'll not tell on us," he said, " if so be 
 she saw us, and she might not." 
 
 " I don't care if she does," said Marjorie. 
 
 Her spirit, the first nerve-shattering alarm once 
 passed, revived in her. Shaking off Paudeen's re- 
 straining hand, she stepped boldly out of the ditch. 
 She found herself face to face with Mrs. O'Halloran. 
 
 " Your tea's ready for you, Miss Marjorie, and 
 Mary Garry has the face near beat off the Major's 
 drum trying to discover where you'd got to. Is that 
 (you in the ditch, Paudeen Canavan? It's another 
 skelping you want, and, what's more, it's another 
 you'll get if I tell Jamesy Deveril on you. What 
 would ail you that you wouldn't bring the young lady 
 in to her tea, and you knowing well it was ready for 
 her?" 
 
 It seemed to Paudeen possible that after all he might 
 escape the punishment which a few minutes before 
 was all but inevitable. Miss Marjorie had Mrs. 
 O'Halloran by the hand, and was evidently giving to 
 the housekeeper's questions those soft answers which 
 turn away wrath. Paudeen found the bicycle under 
 the tree, and, with a care that was almost reverent, 
 wheeled it into its place in the coach-house.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 AFTER tea Mary Garry, supervised in the work 
 by Mrs. O'Halloran, dried Mar j one, changed 
 her frock, tied up her hair with a blue ribbon, and 
 then led her to the door of her uncle's study. The 
 Major had given orders that his niece should be 
 handed over to him between the hours of six and 
 seven. Both Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Cosgrave, who 
 were separately consulted, said that all parents and 
 those who for any reason found themselves in the 
 position of parents, devoted that particular hour of 
 the day to their children. At all other times, so the 
 Major gathered from the two ladies, an uncle might 
 neglect his niece and be held blameless ; but from six 
 o'clock until seven he must personally attend to her 
 wants. 
 
 Major Kent's conscience glowed with a warm ap- 
 proval most comfortable to feel when Mary Garry 
 opened the study door and let in Marjorie. Every 
 other part of him except his conscience was uncom- 
 fortable and embarrassed. He had no experience of 
 little girls nor the slightest idea of what he ought to 
 talk about. He had some thought at first of sending 
 Mary Garry out to find a snail, and repeating, as 
 142
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 143 
 
 well as he could, the model lesson given him in the 
 morning by Meldon; but he rather feared the com- 
 ments which Mrs. O'Halloran would make on snails 
 as playthings, and doubted whether he could explain 
 to her the advantages of nature-study. 
 
 Marjorie was perfectly self-possessed. She made 
 a tour of the study, examining minutely all the ob- 
 jects which interested her. She discovered a hookah, 
 which stood by itself on a small table in a corner of 
 the room. The Major found the Parents' Union 
 method of imparting instruction easier than he ex- 
 pected. He told all there was to tell about the 
 hookah. He got into difficulties in the end when Mar- 
 jorie demanded to have the thing filled, lit, and 
 smoked. She proposed to sit opposite her uncle and 
 make use of one of the two tubes with which the 
 hookah was furnished. The Major, so she planned 
 the entertainment, was to smoke through the other, 
 sitting cross-legged on a sofa-cushion. Thus the il- 
 lusion of being real Turks would be complete. He 
 resisted the proposal, feeling sure that a smoke from 
 a hookah would make Marjorie violently ill. He was 
 even uncertain of the consequences which might en- 
 sue for himself. He said that he had never smoked 
 the hookah. This confession lowered him in Mar- 
 jorie's estimation. She thought, and said, that a man 
 who found himself in possession of a hookah with-
 
 144 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 out making any attempt to smoke it must be lament- 
 ably wanting in enterprise. 
 
 The Major diverted her attention from this dan- 
 gerous game by producing a book of photographs. 
 They were not thrillingly interesting, being, in fact, 
 for the most part, portraits of the horses he had bred 
 and sold. They dated back to a period long before 
 Marjorie's birth, and a student of human nature 
 might have taken pleasure in noting how few and 
 slight were the changes which had taken place in the 
 appearance of Jamesy Deveril. He was in all the 
 pictures. He held each horse by the head, and his 
 face wore the same look of suppressed pride in the 
 beauty of the animals he had reared. He apparently 
 wore the same suit of clothes during the whole pe- 
 riod covered by the photographs, and the same tight 
 leggings. His hair showed a little thinner, but the 
 lines on his lean cheeks grew scarcely any deeper as 
 the pages of the book were turned over. Mar j one, 
 after viewing the first ten or twelve horses, showed 
 signs of being bored. The Major was unable to in- 
 terest her in the special merits of each animal, though 
 that was a subject on which he was well qualified to 
 give instruction. 
 
 Among the horses there were scattered here and 
 there pictures of one of the Major's yachts. There 
 were altogether five of these photographs one of a
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 145 
 
 small schooner of very antique build, two of yawls, 
 and two of cutters, the Spindrift and her immediate 
 predecessor. In the Spindrift Marjorie suddenly dis- 
 played the acutest interest. She asked an immense 
 number of questions, requiring minute details about 
 the sleeping accommodation on board, the cooking ar- 
 rangements, the number of plates, cups, and forks 
 with which the boat was supplied. Major Kent was 
 delighted with himself and her. He felt that he was 
 really educating Marjorie on lines likely to be ap- 
 proved by her mother. He drew plans of the Spin- 
 drift's cabin, explained the nature of lockers, folding 
 cots, swinging lamps, and other matters pertaining 
 to the arrangement of a ten-ton yacht. Marjorie's 
 attention never flagged. It was only when the Major 
 had exhausted the cabins and went on to deliver a 
 lecture on the sails and ropes that her shower of 
 questions ceased. The rigging did not interest her. 
 She yawned, and finally proposed of her own acsord 
 to go to bed. 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran had reached a critical stage in 
 the cooking of the Major's dinner, so it was Mary 
 Garry who attended Marjorie. Undressing in a 
 leisurely and desultory way, Marjorie wandered about 
 her bedroom and plied the maid with questions. 
 " Were you ever in a yacht, Mary Garry ? " 
 Mary Garry had not been in a yacht, and did not
 
 146 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 want to go in one. She understood that people who 
 went in yachts were violently ill. 
 
 " What do people have to eat in yachts ? " 
 
 Mary Garry, who had watched Mrs. O'Halloran 
 pack provisions for various cruises, was of opinion 
 that people the people who were not ill ate the 
 same things on yachts as they did on dry land; but 
 much more of them. Where one loaf would be suffi- 
 cient in a house two would be a meagre supply in a 
 yacht. 
 
 "Has Paudeen ever been on a yacht?" 
 
 Mary Garry thought not. It was, she said, un- 
 likely that anyone who knew Paudeen Canavan, even 
 slightly, would take him on a yacht. A boy of 
 Paudeen's incurably vicious disposition was difficult 
 enough to manage in an ordinary yard. He would 
 be quite impossible on a yacht, where occasions for 
 wrongdoing might be supposed to be numerous. 
 
 "Would you go on a yacht if anybody invited 
 you?" 
 
 " I would not then. Is it me? Sure, what would 
 the like of me do on a yacht? It's lost I'd be, let 
 alone drownded." 
 
 Marjorie sighed. There had risen in her mind a 
 great idea while she was looking at the Major's pho- 
 tographs. She conceived a plan of camping out on 
 board the Spindrift. She had no wish whatever to
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 147 
 
 sail off in any direction. She was quite content that 
 the yacht should lie at anchor, but she wanted to live 
 in the little cabin which her uncle described. She 
 wanted to sleep under a grey blanket, in one of the 
 funny little cots, which were folded back and got out 
 of the way in the morning. She wanted to cook food 
 at the galley stove and to eat it off enamelled metal 
 plates on a swinging table. Her plan was to take 
 Mary Garry and Paudeen with her. Instinct warned 
 her that there would be little use in inviting either 
 her uncle or Mrs. O'Halloran. They would take a 
 foolishly sensible view of the scheme, would urge the 
 superiority of ordinary beds furnished with sheets, 
 the greater comfort of meals at home on fixed tables, 
 and the folly of cooking on an inconvenient stove 
 when there was a kitchen-range available. Of Mary 
 Garry she had hopes, and would gladly have included 
 her in the party, but it appeared that Mary Garry 
 would not go. She fell back upon Paudeen. For 
 nearly an hour she lay awake planning the details of 
 the expedition. Next morning, after breakfast, she 
 found Paudeen, led him to a remote corner of the 
 hayloft, and propounded the dazzling scheme. 
 Paudeen, unpunished for the misdeeds of the day be- 
 fore, had grown bold. He foresaw difficulties, but 
 he was not averse from making an effort to over- 
 Come them. He feared that he would not be able
 
 148 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 to get to the Spindrift in the punt without oars, and 
 the oars were kept in the coach-house. It would be 
 difficult, if not impossible, to abstract them without 
 attracting the attention of Jamesy Deveril. Marjorie 
 suggested that they should be carried off by Paudeen 
 after dark and concealed near the punt. She pro- 
 posed that a depot of food should be established on 
 the beach. A shelter of stones should be built. 
 Loaves of bread, joints of meat, and other necessities 
 should be stored in it. She undertook to carry off 
 little by little from Mrs. O'Halloran's stores a quan- 
 tity of food sufficient to last for several days. She 
 would bury her loot under the hay in the corner of 
 the loft in which they sat, and Paudeen could carry 
 it down to the beach after dark. 
 
 Paudeen Canavan, though he suffered himself to 
 be occasionally cowed by Jamesy Deveril, had in him 
 the makings of an adventurer. He could never have 
 been a leader of men, for he lacked initiative; but, 
 born at an earlier period, he might have developed 
 into a subordinate buccaneer, and ranged the Spanish 
 Main, a terror to the captains of treasure fleets. As 
 a seventeenth-century Englishman he would have ad- 
 ventured for land in Ireland, ridden among the In- 
 vincible Ironsides, or helped to harry the fleets of the 
 Dutch. A century later, with the luck of being bora 
 a Scottish Highlander, he might have charged among
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 149 
 
 kilted clansmen against the artillery of General Cope; 
 or, placed in different circumstances, plundered 
 rajahs in the service of the East India Company. He 
 had his share of daring and resource when under the 
 direction of a master mind. The fear of stripes, of 
 the wrath of Jamesy Deveril, might make him hesi- 
 tate over some trifling peccadillo, some calf-coursing 
 or childish expedition to the seashore. The thought 
 of a great adventure nerved him. He brought to 
 the aid of Marjorie's imagination a knowledge of 
 what was practicable. Between them plans were 
 laid, details thought out, and the whole scheme per- 
 fected. 
 
 Under the pretext of more bicycle-riding, Paudeen 
 was rescued for the morning from his duties in the 
 stable. He and Marjorie made their way to the 
 shore and, labouring delightfully, built the depot for 
 the food. It was not rainproof, but that mattered 
 little. The sun was shining, and Paudeen had heard 
 Jamesy Deveril say in the morning that the weather 
 was settled for a couple of days at least. They re- 
 turned to Portsmouth Lodge and put the bicycle into 
 the coach-house. With nervous joy they handled the 
 punt's oars and discovered the hiding-place of the 
 rowlocks. Then Paudeen submitted himself to 
 Jamesy Deveril, and remained during the day so 
 obedient, hard-working, and preternaturally good that
 
 ISO THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Jamesy threatened him at last with a dose of castor- 
 oil, believing that the boy must be unwell. 
 
 Marjorie hung round Mrs. O'Halloran in the 
 kitchen. She, too, was extraordinarily peaceable. 
 
 "There she'd be," said Mrs. O'Halloran after- 
 wards, describing the day, " running in and out on 
 me the same as if she was playing herself without a 
 tint of mischief in her head. A better nor a nicer 
 girleen you wouldn't ask to see. Nobody'd ever have 
 thought it was divilment she was divising in the in- 
 side of her head." 
 
 On every possible occasion Marjorie seized some- 
 thing. The turning of Mrs. O'Halloran's back for 
 an instant was sufficient for her. She secured the 
 remains of the box of sardines which Paudeen had 
 brought out from Ballymoy for her dinner the day 
 before. She got half a box of water biscuits, a piece 
 of raw bacon which hung on a hook in the larder, 
 one of the cakes which had come from the stores, 
 and at last, greatly daring, a whole loaf of 
 soda-bread, which had just been taken from the 
 oven. 
 
 This last capture very nearly led to serious trouble. 
 When Marjorie returned to the kitchen after con- 
 cealing the loaf in the hayloft she found that a search 
 was being made for it. Mrs. O'Halloran sharply ac- 
 cused Mary Garry of having taken it up, carried it
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 151 
 
 away, left it somewhere " out of her hand," and then 
 forgotten the whole transaction. 
 
 " I wasn't next nor nigh your loaf," said Mary 
 Garry. " What call would there be for me to be 
 taking the like?" 
 
 ";If you didn't take it," said Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 "who did? It was there sitting on the dresser this 
 minute, and I didn't do more than just run out for 
 a sup of water to wash the cabbages for the dinner, 
 and when I came back it was gone. Take care now 
 that you didn't take it up with you to the Major's 
 room, and you making the bed." 
 
 "I did not. Why would I, when I have the bed 
 made since ten o'clock this morning? Was there 
 e'er a dog about the place that might have ate 
 it?" 
 
 " There was not ; barring that white devil that Mel- 
 don brings out with him, there's no dogs here, and 
 that one wasn't out these two days." 
 
 " It might be," said Mary Garry, " that the black 
 polly calf strolled in unknown to you and whisked it 
 off with her. I always did say that that calf was ter- 
 rible wise." 
 
 " Arrah, talk sense. When did ever ye hear of a 
 calf eating a loaf of bread?" 
 
 "My mother had a turkey hen one time," said 
 Mary Garry, " that would drink tea the same as if it
 
 152 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 was a Christian. You'd have wondered to see it. 
 So you would." 
 
 "Will you find the loaf, wherever you have it put 
 away, and stop your talk about turkey hens." 
 
 Marjorie listened and watched. There was an air 
 of determination about Mrs. O'Halloran, which made 
 her fear that the search would be prosecuted with the 
 utmost vigour might even extend to places less 
 likely than the hayloft. The discovery of the loaf 
 would mean the loss of the sardines, the biscuits, the 
 cake, and the bacon. It would involve further inves- 
 tigations and the wrecking of her whole plan. She 
 determined to restore the loaf. Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 clinging, against all probability, to her original hy- 
 pothesis, dragged Mary Garry, now weeping co- 
 piously, up to the Major's room. She stripped the 
 blankets from the bed in her determination to find the 
 spot where Mary Garry had laid the loaf down. 
 Marjorie seized her opportunity. She brought the 
 loaf from the hayloft and put it on the ground beside 
 the pump in the yard. Then she went into the house 
 and shouted. Mrs. O'Halloran, followed by Mary 
 Garry, whose reputation had been vindicated by the 
 condition of the Major's bed, came downstairs at 
 once. 
 
 " I've found the loaf," said Marjorie ; " it's out in 
 the yard beside the pump."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 153 
 
 Mary Garry giggled. Mrs. O'Halloran cast a 
 glance at her which stopped the giggle on the spot. 
 She walked out to the yard, picked up the loaf, and 
 brought it in. 
 
 " It could be," she said in a subdued tone, " that I 
 took it with me when I went to get the water for the 
 cabbage, and laid it down unknown to myself. It's 
 what I don't mind ever doing before ; nor I wouldn't 
 have believed it, not if the priest had it give out off 
 the altar that I done it. But where's the use of talk- 
 ing? I have the loaf safe now, anyway, and you'd 
 better be getting on with your work, Mary Garry. 
 You have the Major's bed to make over again. The 
 way you make beds, it'll do the blankets no harm to 
 get a bit of an air. If I did right, I'd go up every 
 day of my life and spread them out on the floor and 
 turn the mattresses just to teach you." 
 
 There must have been words on the tip of Mary 
 Garry's tongue which it would have been pleasant to 
 speak. She did not utter them. It is impossible 
 that she refrained from a magnanimous dislike of 
 striking a fallen foe. It is more likely that she feared 
 being worsted in an encounter with Mrs. O'Halloran 
 even when she had all the advantage of a vastly su- 
 perior position. 
 
 Marjorie became very cautious. During the re- 
 mainder of the morning she only succeeded in secur-
 
 154 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 ing a package of kitchen salt, a small quantity of tea, 
 and three eggs, one of which she unfortunately 
 broke. 
 
 That night Paudeen crept cautiously from his bed 
 in the room above the coach-house at eleven o'clock. 
 It was very dark, and in his efforts to find the oars 
 he upset Marjorie's bicycle. It fell with a horrid 
 clang on the flagged floor, and Paudeen immediately 
 tripped over it and fell too. He lay quite still, ex- 
 pecting every moment to hear Major Kent's voice. 
 Jamesy Deveril, most fortunately, slept in the gate 
 lodge, so there was no fear of interruption from him. 
 The Major was either sound asleep or inattentive. 
 He made no move. Paudeen picked himself up and 
 stole forward very warily, feeling his way along the 
 wall. He came upon the oars at last, and carried 
 them off. The labour of his undertaking was very 
 great. Not caring to venture along the drive, which 
 would have taken him past Jamesy Deveril's bedroom 
 window, he crossed the paddock, and had to climb a 
 wire fence and a wall. He stumbled and fell several 
 times in the rough fields beyond the road. Samson, 
 with the gates of Gaza on his shoulders, must have 
 encountered similar difficulties on his way to the top 
 of Hebron at midnight. But, supposing the greater 
 weight of the gates to be compensated by the judge's 
 superior strength, Paudeen had the harder task.
 
 (THE MAJOR'S NIECE 155 
 
 Samson, the gates once placed in the appointed place, 
 could lie down and sleep. Paudeen had to go back 
 for Marjorie's store of provisions. He had to go 
 back twice, making the double journey three times 
 altogether, because the items collected by Marjorie 
 were of such unadaptable kinds, and of such awkward 
 shapes, that he could not carry them all at once. An 
 open sardine-tin cannot be carried, without serious 
 risk, in the same hand with a cake while climbing a 
 fence; and there was no room for the bacon inside 
 the biscuit-tin. It was greatly to Paudeen's credit, 
 considering the difficulties he had to deal with, that 
 he only spilled a little of the salt and broke one of 
 the remaining eggs.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 AMONG the letters on the Major's breakfast 
 table next morning was one addressed in a 
 pretty, feminine hand to " Mrs. Kent, Portsmouth 
 Lodge, Ballymoy." The Major looked at it doubt- 
 fully. The address was his. The surname was quite 
 plainly written. After some hesitation he opened the 
 envelope. The letter inside began " Dear Madam." 
 The Major hesitated again, turned over the sheet of 
 paper, and looked at the end. It was signed " Olivia 
 Garnett," and enclosed in brackets after the name 
 were the letters " B.A." He took another look at the 
 beginning of the letter. "Your telegram," he read, 
 " was handed to me yesterday afternoon in the office 
 of the Irish Times." He was sure of his correspond- 
 ent at last. Olivia Garnett, B.A., was, without doubt, 
 the lady whom he had engaged to take charge of 
 Marjorie. He read the letter through. 
 
 Miss Garnett, it appeared, was quite ready to spend 
 her holiday in looking after Mrs. Kent's children, 
 and had no objection to schoolboys. She assumed 
 that there was some special reason for haste, and pro- 
 posed to leave Dublin by an early train on the morn- 
 ing after she wrote. The Major glanced at the date 
 156
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 157 
 
 of the letter, and came to the conclusion that Miss 
 Garnett might be expected to arrive in Donard at 
 one o'clock. The prospect caused him acute un- 
 easiness. He had not yet told Mrs. O'Halloran that 
 he was engaging a governess. Now it would be 
 necessary to have a bedroom got ready at once. He 
 expected that Mrs. O'Halloran would be very much 
 displeased, and he recognised that she would have a 
 legitimate grievance. She ought in all fairness to 
 have had at least a day's warning of the coming of 
 Miss Garnett. He turned to the letter again with a 
 sigh. Miss Garnett, evidently with the schoolboys 
 in her mind, declared that she was able to teach 
 Latin and elementary Greek. Her other accomplish- 
 ments included French, German, music, freehand and 
 geometrical drawing, Swedish drill, lawn-tennis, and 
 what she described as the usual English subjects. 
 The Major regretted that he had not spent an extra 
 five shillings, or even half a sovereign, on his tele- 
 gram and made his position clearer. He was not at 
 all sure what view Miss Garnett might take of an 
 engagement in a bachelor's house; and it seemed al- 
 most insulting to offer no more than one small girl 
 to a lady equipped with such a mass of miscellaneous 
 learning. Then it occurred to him, to the great in- 
 crease of his uneasiness, that he had not yet told 
 Marjorie about her governess. It was impossible to
 
 158 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 foretell with any certainty how she would take the 
 news, but there was a horrible possibility that she 
 might form a defensive alliance with Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran. 
 
 Marjorie entered the room fresh from an interview 
 with Paudeen Canavan. She was in high; spirits, 
 for she had learned that the transport of the oars and 
 provisions had been safely accomplished. Major 
 Kent, deceived by her smiles, felt that it might be 
 easy to reconcile her to the coming of Miss Garnett. 
 He gave her a bowl of porridge-and-milk, and then, 
 after the manner of heralds of bad news, made an 
 oblique advance towards his subject. 
 
 "How would you like," he said, "to have a lady 
 to play with instead of Paudeen?" 
 
 Marjorie swallowed a large mouthful of porridge 
 without chewing it at all, and looked steadily at her 
 uncle. 
 
 " I should not like it at all." 
 
 She spoke quite decidedly. Her mind was full of 
 her elopement to the yacht with Paudeen Canavan. 
 The coming of a strange lady would be very likely 
 to interfere with her plan. 
 
 " She's a very nice lady," said the Major per- 
 suasively. " She plays lawn-tennis, and she's fond of 
 Swedish drill." 
 
 "I don't want any lady."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 159 
 
 Marjorie's emphasis on the pronoun allowed the 
 Major to infer that the entertainment of any lady 
 who might arrive would be left entirely on his liands. 
 
 " Her name," he said, " is Olivia Garnett." 
 
 There was nothing in the name to alter Marjorie's 
 opinion of the desirability of the lady's presence ; but 
 she was a kind-hearted child, and, having made her 
 own position plain, she did not want to interfere with 
 her uncle's pleasures. 
 
 "All right, Uncle John," she said. "When she 
 comes she can play at lawn-tennis and Swedish drill 
 with you and J. J. I'll go on learning to ride the 
 bicycle with Paudeen." 
 
 Major Kent did not feel equal to any further ef- 
 fort at explanation. There seemed to him only one 
 thing to do. He made up his mind to get Meldon 
 out to Portsmouth Lodge, and to hand over to him 
 the task of introducing the new governess to Mar- 
 jorie and Mrs. O'Halloran. When breakfast was 
 over he went out into the yard and gave his orders 
 to Jamesy Deveril. 
 
 " You'll put the brown cob into the trap at once," 
 he said, " for I'm going to drive into Ballymoy. 
 Then you can take the car yourself and go over to 
 Donard. There's a lady arriving by the one o'clock 
 train a Miss Garnett and you're to bring her 
 back here."
 
 160 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 He spoke in a casual, careless tone, as if the arrival 
 of lady visitors at Portsmouth Lodge were an every- 
 day matter. Then, without giving Jamesy Deveril 
 any opportunity for asking questions, he went back 
 into the house. When the trap stood ready for him 
 at the door he called Mary Garry. 
 
 " Mary," he said, " I forgot to mention that I am 
 expecting a lady here this afternoon at about 
 four o'clock. She will probably be staying for 
 some time. Will you kindly tell Mrs. O'Halloran to 
 have a room ready for her? I can't wait to settle 
 about it myself, for I have an important engage- 
 ment." 
 
 Then, lest Mrs. O'Halloran should sally swiftly 
 from the kitchen and speak to him, he drove off. 
 Afterwards, no doubt, there would be trouble with 
 Mrs. O'Halloran, but he intended to have Meldon by 
 his side when that time came. 
 
 He drove into Ballymoy and put up his cob, as 
 usual, in the stable behind Doyle's hotel. As he went 
 out of the yard gate he was met by Meldon, who ap- 
 peared to be in an exceptionally cheerful humour. 
 He had just learned from Doyle that Father McCor- 
 mack and the reverend Mother had taken kindly to 
 the idea of the troop of fairies, and that the dress- 
 maker was already engaged on the costumes. There 
 were to be eight, ten, or twelve attendant leprechauns,
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 161 
 
 according to the number of dresses that could be ot 
 ready in time. 
 
 " I saw you," said Meldon, " out of the back win- 
 dow of the hotel as you were putting up the coa. 
 I was just having a chat with Doyle about the pres- 
 entation of the address to the Lord Lieutenant and 
 Lady Chesterton." 
 
 "J. ].,'' said the Major, "she's coming to-day." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Father McCormack had another let- 
 ter this morning. She won't be here till Tuesday." 
 
 "No," said the Major. "To-day." 
 
 " Who are you talking about ? Lady Chester- 
 ton?" 
 
 " No. Olivia Garnett Miss Garnett, or Mrs. 
 Garnett. I don't know which she is. The gov- 
 erness." 
 
 " Oh, the governess ! I wasn't thinking of her. I 
 hope she'll turn out all right. What does Marjorie 
 say?" 
 
 " I'd like to talk the whole thing over with you, 
 J. J. Are you busy?" 
 
 " My business," said Meldon, " consists very 
 largely of helping people who are in any kind of 
 difficulty. Just come into my rooms and tell me 
 what's wrong. If you're not satisfied about the 
 lady's character it will be better to turn her back at 
 once. You can't afford to run risks."
 
 162 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz was expelled from the 
 armchair in Meldon's room, but the Major preferred, 
 he said, to sit at the table while dealing with serious 
 business. He handed Miss Garnett's letter to Mel- 
 don, who read it carefully. 
 
 "There seems," he said, "to be some slight mis- 
 understanding. Olivia evidently thinks she's coming 
 into a large family with a Mrs. Kent at the head of 
 it. What did you say in your telegram ? " 
 
 " I don't remember." 
 
 "You must have stated, or at all events implied," 
 said Meldon, " that you had a wife and six children, 
 two of them at least schoolboys home for the holi- 
 days." 
 
 " I couldn't possibly have said that. I only spent 
 eightpence on the telegram, and, in any case, I 
 wouldn't have said it. Where would have been the 
 point of telling the woman a pack of lies ? " 
 
 " It will be something of a surprise to Olivia," 
 said Meldon, " when she arrives and finds out the 
 true state of the case." 
 
 "Do you suppose she'll go back again at once?" 
 
 "No. I don't. In my opinion she'll be delighted. 
 But it will be time enough to [consider her attitude 
 when we've made up our minds whether she's the 
 proper sort of person to take charge of Marjorie. 
 Does she thoroughly understand the Parents' Union
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 163 
 
 system of education? That's the first question." 
 
 " I don't know. I didn't mention that in my tele- 
 gram." 
 
 " You ought to have mentioned it. The sixpence 
 you saved there, Major, will cost you dear before 
 you're through with this business. You'll very likely 
 have to pay her way back to Dublin. The first thing 
 you'd better do when she arrives is to explain the 
 system to her, and ask her whether she's prepared 
 to work along those lines." 
 
 " I'll give her Margaret's pamphlets to read," said 
 the Major. " But that's not the real difficulty. 
 What I want to talk to you about is " 
 
 " Let's get rid of one thing at a time," said Meldon. 
 " You can't give her those pamphlets to read, because 
 you haven't got them. I lent them to Doyle this 
 morning, and told him to pass them on to Father 
 McCormack." 
 
 "What on earth did you do that for? They've 
 neither of them got any children to educate." 
 
 "You'll find," said Meldon "in fact, I expect 
 you've observed already that it's the people who 
 haven't got any children who take the keenest inter- 
 est in education. All the authorities on the subject 
 those who invent the new theories are either 
 unmarried women or confirmed old bachelors. John 
 Stuart Mill, who wrote one of the best books there
 
 164 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 is on education, is a case in point. The moment peo- 
 ple, men or women, get even one child of their own, 
 their interest in education begins to flag. When they 
 get two or three children it requires the utmost ex- 
 ertions of the Parents' Union and other similar so- 
 cieties to keep them up to the mark. Those who have 
 really large families know what utter rot the whole 
 thing is, and nothing short of the Compulsory Edu- 
 cation Act will induce them to send the poor little 
 things to school. That explains to you why I gave 
 all your sister Margaret's literature to Doyle and 
 Father McCormack. They're the only two people, 
 except myself, in the town of Ballymoy, who haven't 
 got any children. Consequently, they're the only two 
 who care enough about education to toil through all 
 that printed matter. As a matter of fact, I had an- 
 other reason as well. They are both going to make 
 speeches at Lady Chesterton's meeting for the ameli- 
 oration of the Irish child. Now I want the thing to 
 be a success. I want Ballymoy to show up well. If 
 I leave Father McCormack and Doyle to themselves 
 they'll just talk the usual platitudes. You know the 
 kind of thing." 
 
 " No," said the Major, " I don't. And what's more, 
 I don't care. I didn't come here to talk about your 
 meeting. I'm in a fix about this governess." 
 
 " We'll get back to the governess in a minute.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 165 
 
 Just at present I am explaining why it was necessary 
 to give those pamphlets to Father McCormack and 
 Doyle. The priest, if left to himself, would have got 
 up at the meeting and said that the future of the na- 
 tion depends on the efficiency of the school which, 
 of course, isn't true. The most successful nations, the 
 ancient Romans and a little later on the Goths, had 
 practically no schools at all, efficient or otherwise. 
 Father McCormack knows that perfectly well; but 
 he'd say the other thing, and go on saying it in dif- 
 ferent words for at least ten minutes. It wouldn't 
 be his fault. He'd have to, for he wouldn't know 
 what else to say. Then the Marchioness would get 
 up and say that the hand that rocks the cradle rules 
 the world. That's another of those things which 
 everybody agrees to consider true, but which is really 
 a horrid lie. The women who have taken a real share 
 in ruling the world took jolly good care never to 
 rock cradles. Look at Queen Elizabeth. Look at 
 Katherine the Great of Russia. Did she rock the 
 cradle of the infant Paul? Not she. She bundled 
 him off to his grandmother, and left him with the 
 old lady till he was grown up. After the marchion- 
 ess has finished, Doyle will get on his legs, and he, if 
 not carefully instructed beforehand, will make us all 
 sick by repeating that emigration is the curse of this 
 country which may be true, but is disgustingly stale.
 
 166 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 But if he and Father McCormack take a couple of 
 those pamphlets and magazines of yours and work 
 them up they'll make speeches which will be reported 
 in every paper in Ireland. Some of the ideas are ab- 
 solutely new in this country." 
 
 "Anyway," said the Major, "it doesn't matter 
 about the pamphlets. I don't want them. I don't 
 care if I never see them again. I want to know what 
 I'm to do about Miss Garnett. What will she do 
 when she finds out there's only one little girl for her 
 to teach, and that I'm a bachelor? She's expecting to 
 find a Mrs. Kent. You saw her letter." 
 
 " If she's made up her mind to face a pack of howl- 
 ing children and a couple of schoolboys, it will be an 
 immense relief to her to find only one little girl. 
 You may make your mind quite easy about that." 
 
 " But what about there being no Mrs. Kent ? Will 
 she object to my being a bachelor?" 
 
 "Not at all. She'll be pleased. As I told you 
 when you first thought of engaging her, she'll occupy 
 her spare time in trying to marry you. Whether she 
 succeeds or not and I expect she will succeed 
 she'll have a very pleasant and exciting holiday." 
 
 "J. J., there's one other spare bedroom in Ports- 
 mouth Lodge. Will you come out and spend the next 
 month with me ? " 
 
 " I will not. I know what's in your mind. You're
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 167 
 
 thinking that if I were there Olivia would prefer me, 
 and you'd get off. That is, of course, quite true. 
 But there are limits to what you ought to expect of 
 a friend. I have my reputation to consider. I'm a 
 clergyman, and I'm engaged to be married. I can't 
 spend my time gadding up and down the country and 
 flirting outrageously with every pretty governess you 
 choose to engage. It wouldn't be right, and I won't 
 do it, even to oblige you." 
 
 " I don't want you to flirt with her. I only want 
 you to be there." 
 
 "Oh, to act as a sort of chaperon. Well, I won't 
 do that either. There's nothing so unpleasant as 
 watching other people love-making. And my pres- 
 ence wouldn't be the slightest check on her. If she 
 makes up her mind to marry you, she will marry you, 
 whether I'm there or not." 
 
 The Major sat silent, no doubt contemplating his 
 awful fate. 
 
 " I suppose," said Meldon, " that you've made out 
 a programme for her guidance." 
 
 " A programme ? " 
 
 " Yes. That's absolutely essential. You can't have 
 a governess without giving her a programme. It 
 ought to be done in French ; but if you can't manage 
 that, do it in English and I'll translate it for you. 
 The sort of thing I mean is this : ' 8 a.m., get up and
 
 168 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 see that Marjorie washes her teeth.' You can put 
 that job on Olivia anyhow. '8.45, breakfast.' Here 
 you might add a footnote on Mrs. Purvis's wishes 
 about the chewing of food. '9.30 to 10.30, walk.' 
 Promenade is the French for walk, in case you think 
 of doing the thing in that language yourself. ' Sub- 
 jects for conversation during walk. Monday: Com- 
 mon objects of the kitchen garden e.g. green cater- 
 pillars, young tomatoes, the wire-worm, and so forth. 
 Tuesday: Common objects on the high road, the do- 
 mestic ass " 
 
 " I'll keep the domestic ass till you come out,"" said 
 the Major. 
 
 Meldon ignored the insult. It was blunt, obvious, 
 an imitation of the repartee of the schoolboy alto- 
 gether beneath his notice. 
 
 " In that way," he said, " you'll be able to regulate 
 Olivia's work without having to keep dodging in and 
 out of the school-room all day long." 
 
 "When I've told her that she has to get up at 
 eight," said the Major, "and when I've forced her 
 to go out for a walk at ten, whether she wants to or 
 not, it won't make things any worse if I go spying on 
 her movements. I shall certainly consult her before 
 I make any such arrangement of her time." 
 
 " Marjorie is the person to consult," said Meldon, 
 " if you consult anyone."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 169 
 
 "The fact is, J. J.," said the Major, "I haven't 
 told Marjorie yet that Miss Garnett is coming." 
 
 " You haven't told Marjorie ! Good gracious, Ma- 
 jor! There'll be a horrible row when you do. Mar- 
 jorie ought to have been in your confidence from the 
 very start. No self-respecting child would stand be- 
 ing ignored in that way. Have you told Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran?" 
 
 " No ; I haven't. At least, I sent her a sort of mes- 
 sage by Mary Garry." 
 
 " Then there'll be another row. On the whole, Ma- 
 jor, I don't think you're going to have a particularly 
 pleasant time. If I were you, I'd tell Marjorie and 
 Mrs. O'Halloran together. Make a kind of public 
 announcement, and when you've done it retire at once 
 to your bedroom and have out the doctor. I'll give 
 him the tip and get him to wire to Dublin for a hos- 
 pital nurse. She'll protect you from Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran, Olivia, and Marjorie; and if she marries you 
 herself in the end, you'll be no worse off. For all 
 you know to the contrary, the nurse may be the bet- 
 ter-looking of the two." 
 
 " I thought, J. J., that perhaps you'd come out and 
 break it to Mrs. O'Halloran and Marjorie. You al- 
 ways say that you like helping people out of difficul- 
 ties. I'm sure you'll never get a better opportunity 
 than this."
 
 170 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Oh, that's what you want, is it ? I suspected 
 that that was what you were getting at when you first 
 began. Why couldn't you have come to the point at 
 once, instead of wasting time over side-issues? I 
 can't go out this morning, but I will this afternoon. 
 What time does Olivia arrive ? " 
 
 " About four. Jamesy has gone over to Donard to 
 meet her." 
 
 " Very well. I shall be with you shortly before 
 four. I'll have the whole household assembled in the 
 dining-room Marjorie, Mrs. O'Halloran, Mary 
 Garry, Jamesy Deveril, Paudeen Canavan, and Olivia. 
 I'll make a speech to them urging them to adopt an 
 attitude of mutual forbearance. I'll do my best to 
 persuade them that the unpleasant position in which 
 they find themselves is not due to any want of con- 
 sideration for their feelings on your part ; and I'll tell 
 them that if any of them make themselves unpleas- 
 ant to each other, you, acting on my advice, will sim- 
 ply go to bed and leave them to fight it out. That, I 
 think, is the best line to take."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IT was a quarter to four o'clock when Meldon ar- 
 rived at Portsmouth Lodge. Major Kent was 
 waiting for him, impatient and nervous. Miss Gar- 
 nett might arrive at any moment, and nothing had 
 been done to propitiate the other members of the 
 household. Mrs. O'Halloran had not spoken a sin- 
 gle word on the subject, and her silence alarmed the 
 Major very much. A voluble protest, even accom- 
 panied by the tears of Mary Garry, would have set 
 his mind at ease, though it would have been very un- 
 pleasant. Her refusal to express any opinion about 
 the message she had received in the morning left him 
 in a state of dreadful uncertainty about the line she 
 meant to take. He was equally uncomfortable about 
 Marjorie. She had gone out early in the afternoon. 
 He supposed that she was practising bicycle-riding 
 with Paudeen Canavan. She had not returned, and 
 it was quite possible that she might meet Miss Gar- 
 nett on the road. The thought of what might occur 
 if she learned the truth first from the lips of her gov- 
 erness filled the Major with acute anxiety. Mar- 
 jorie was a child who never hesitated to speak out 
 when she felt strongly, and it was likely that she 
 171
 
 i;2 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 would feel very strongly indeed about Miss Garnett. 
 It was with a sense of great relief that he greeted 
 Meldon when he walked into the room, hot and dusty. 
 
 " I've cut it rather fine," said Meldon ; " in fact, 
 I'm only just in time. I passed the car a mile back 
 on the road, and Olivia will be here in about ten 
 minutes. It wasn't my fault. We met a new dog 
 just outside the workhouse a kind of brindled 
 sheep-dog, and, of course, Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz 
 had to stop to kill it. That delayed me ten minutes, 
 for the sheep-dog put up a middling good fight. 
 Then I punctured a [couple of miles out of the town, 
 and found I hadn't a repair outfit. I had to ride the 
 rest of the way on my rim." 
 
 " You're here now anyway," said the Major, " and 
 that's the great thing." 
 
 " Everything quite ready, I suppose ? Afternoon 
 tea spread out in the drawing-room? Mary Garry 
 with her cap and apron on, a vase of roses on . 
 Olivia's dressing-table, and Marjorie's hair brushed ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Mrs. O'Halloran has kept out of 
 my way ever since I came home. I didn't like to pre- 
 cipitate things by making inquiries. I daresay it's 
 all right about tea. Marjorie is out bicycling. I 
 haven't seen Mary Garry since lunch. She hadn't 
 her cap and apron on then; but she may have put 
 them on since."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 173 
 
 " Mar j one must be sent for at once," said Meldon. 
 " Then we'll see about Mary Garry's toilet. Our 
 plan of operations is as follows. I meet Olivia at the 
 door " 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't call her ' Olivia,' " said the 
 Major. " You'll do it to her face if you get into the 
 habit of it; and then there'll be trouble." 
 
 " That'll be all right. You'll be calling her by her 
 Christian name yourself in a day or two. I caught 
 a glimpse of her as I passed the car. She's got 
 fluffy yellow hair, and a nice round dimply sort of 
 face. I should say that she's just the sort of girl 
 who'll be engaged to be married to you in the inside 
 of a week ; and you'll like it tremendously. I daresay 
 it'll be a relief to Marjorie, too, when the thing 
 comes to a head and she isn't responsible any more 
 for entertaining Olivia. But we haven't time to dis- 
 cuss your marriage now. I'll meet her at the door. 
 You'll lie low until I bring her in and introduce 
 her." 
 
 " I don't see why," said the Major. " I don't par- 
 ticularly want to meet her at the door, but the fact 
 that she's good-looking if she is doesn't seem to 
 me any reason why I shouldn't." 
 
 " If you think the matter out you'll see at once 
 that you can't not at least if you've any decency of 
 feeling. The poor girl has been travelling since
 
 174 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 seven o'clock this morning. Coming into a strange 
 house she'll naturally like to look her very best. 
 That means that she'll want to tidy her hair, put her 
 hat on straight, and get out a clean pocket-handker- 
 chief before she faces you. You're the man she'll 
 want to make a good impression on. It doesn't mat- 
 ter about me; but she would hate you to see her for 
 the first time with her hair all tousled and some hor- 
 rid smut or other on the end of her nose." 
 
 " Very well, J. J. Settle it any way you like ; but 
 I don't suppose she'll care much about your washing 
 her face for her. Nobody would." 
 
 "I don't propose to wash her face. I intend to 
 hand her over to Mary Garry with the remark, made 
 in a polite but conversational tone calculated to set 
 her at her ease at once, that tea will be ready in the 
 drawing-room in ten minutes, and that if she 
 wants anything she has only to ring the bell in her 
 room." 
 
 " I doubt if ringing the bell will be much good. I 
 haven't, as I said, seen Mrs. O'Halloran ; but I ex- 
 pect, from what I know of her character, that she'll 
 be most unwilling to take any notice of that bell. 
 She hates bells, and I'm nearly certain she broke the 
 study one on purpose last week.. If Miss Garnett 
 rings hers " 
 
 " I shan't give Mrs. O'H. a chance of being dis-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 175 
 
 agreeable. I shall collar Mary Garry and stand over 
 her until Olivia comes down again. You can count 
 on me, Major. If Olivia rings her bell, Mary Garry 
 will go bounding upstairs like an antelope, and what- 
 ever is asked for will be brought at once, unless it's 
 something entirely unreasonable. In the meanwhile 
 you will go into the drawing-room, sit down on a 
 chair, and pretend to read a book. You will have 
 a paper-knife in your hand " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " My dear Major ! This lady comes here bristling 
 with knowledge and oozing all over with culture. 
 She's a bachelor of arts. She didn't mention her uni- 
 versity in the letter, but a degree of that sort means 
 learning, wherever it's got. She will naturally ex- 
 pect to associate with people who are interested in lit- 
 erature and art. You're not; so the only thing to do 
 is to try and give her the impression that you are. 
 She'll find you out in the end, of course; but if, when 
 she first sees you, you have a book in one hand and a 
 paper-knife in the other she'll get a good general 
 idea of your character. After all, it's not much to 
 ask you to do, when she's taking all the trouble to 
 wash her face and do her hair so as to make a fa- 
 vourable impression on you. As soon as she enters 
 the room you will rise, smiling in a friendly and 
 hospitable manner, extend your right hand "
 
 i;6 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Thanks. I have shaken hands with people be- 
 fore. I shouldn't have offered her my left." 
 
 "And express a hope that she's had a pleasant 
 
 journey Ah! I hear the car! That must be 
 
 her. Now recollect what I said. The moment you 
 hear Olivia go upstairs you slip quietly into the draw- 
 ing-room with a book and a paper-knife." 
 
 The door of the study shut behind Meldon. The 
 Major heard Mary Garry summoned loudly. The 
 car drew up at the door. Meldon's voice was audi- 
 ble again. He was talking volubly, evidently to Miss 
 Garnett. There were footsteps in the hall. A door 
 upstairs was shut with a violent bang. The Major 
 rose, slipped out of the study, and went into the 
 drawing-room. He carried with him a volume of his 
 Encyclopaedia marked on the cover " Jab to Sli," and 
 had a large silver-mounted Spanish clasp-knife as a 
 paper-cutter. Meldon entered the room a few min- 
 utes later. 
 
 " It's all right," he said. " She hasn't rung the 
 bell yet, and she hardly will now. Anyhow, I think 
 Mary Garry will go to her if she does. But I was 
 obliged to speak very strongly to her. Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran has evidently been working her up. I can tell 
 you, Major, that old woman is in a fine temper. I 
 never saw anything to equal her. It seems that she 
 and Mary Garry between them have lost or mislaid
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 177 
 
 a couple of pounds of bacon, a box of water-biscuits, 
 half a tin of sardines, a package of kitchen salt, 
 three eggs, and some other provisions of a miscel- 
 laneous kind. I couldn't go into the matter fully, but 
 I rather fancy that Mrs. O'Halloran regards Olivia 
 as in some way responsible for their disappearance. 
 There will be a worse row than I counted on. No 
 governess, especially if she's entirely innocent, will 
 put up with being called a thief before she's half an 
 hour in the house. Did you hear the way Mary 
 Garry banged the door of the bedroom after she got 
 Olivia inside? That just shows the sort of feelings 
 Mrs. O'Halloran is giving way to. However, I think 
 the tea will be all right. I hate threatening people, 
 especially girls ; but the matter was urgent, so I told 
 Mary Garry that if tea wasn't brought into this room 
 in the inside of ten minutes I'd give Paudeen Canavan 
 half a crown to put live rats in her bed every night 
 for a fortnight. I rather fancy that'll make her 
 mind herself for a bit. By the way, I was quite right 
 about Olivia. She's an extremely attractive- 
 looking girl and very nicely dressed. I don't pity 
 you a bit for having to marry her, though I suspect 
 that when you do Mrs. O'Halloran will leave at 
 once." 
 
 Miss Garnett entered the room. The Major rose 
 hurriedly, dropping the Encyclopaedia and the dagger
 
 i/8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 on the hearthrug. Meldon performed the ceremony 
 of introduction. 
 
 " This is Major Kent," he said. " Major, Miss 
 Garnett. I'm sure you'll be glad of a cup of tea, 
 Miss Garnett. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll 
 just go and make Mary Garry bring it in at once." 
 
 " I hope," said the Major, " that you had a pleas- 
 ant journey." 
 
 "Oh, yes, thanks; and the drive from the station 
 was beautiful ! " 
 
 Before the Major had hit on a suitable remark to 
 make about the scenery, Meldon's voice reached 
 them through the open door. He was speaking 
 loudly, and every word he said was plainly audible. 
 
 " Very well ; I'm not going to drag you into the 
 drawing-room by the scruff of your neck. I have 
 some regard for appearances, if you haven't. But 
 remember what I say. Two rats every night pie- 
 bald rats, with long, scaly tails ; rats of a particularly 
 loathsome breed. I'll get them out specially from 
 Doyle's oat-loft, where there are thousands of them. 
 At the end of a week you'll be sorry that you wouldn't 
 bring in that tea." 
 
 Miss Garnett started slightly, and looked inquir- 
 ingly at the Major. 
 
 A moment later Meldon entered the room carrying 
 the tea-tray.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 179 
 
 " I hope," he said genially, " that you won't mind 
 our rough-and-ready ways, Miss Garnett. The Ma- 
 jor's parlourmaid has gone out to fetch Miss Mar- 
 jorie, your future pupil. We thought you'd like to 
 see her at once. The cook doesn't care about coming 
 into the drawing- roor". She's not accustomed to la- 
 dies, and but I expect you understand the way of 
 cooks thoroughly. Mrs. O'Halloran is excellent at 
 savouries, but shs requires a little humouring. I 
 thought the best thing to do was to bring in the tea 
 myself." 
 
 " How old is Marjorie? " asked Miss Garnett, ad- 
 dressing Major Kent. 
 
 " Ten," said Meldon " ten or eleven. Neither 
 the Major nor I are quite sure which, but no doubt 
 you'll be able to find out. She has been brought up 
 in Australia, and she may be a little backward in 
 Latin and geometrical drawing; but I expect you'll 
 find her up to the mark in everything else. Are you 
 going to pour out tea, Major, or sliall I? Or what 
 do you say if we ask Miss Garnett to do it?" 
 
 " Won't Mrs. Kent be here ? " asked Miss Garnett. 
 
 " No," said Meldon ; " she won't. The fact is that 
 Marjorie's mother she's Mrs. Purvis, by tae way, 
 not Mrs. Kent is at present touring round the chief 
 cities of Europe, enjoying her:3lf, I have no doult, 
 doing picture-galleries and cathedrals. That's tlie
 
 i8o (THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 reason we asked you to come down and look after 
 Marjorie. We thought that the dear child's knowl- 
 edge of geography would be greatly improved if she 
 followed her mother's tour on the map every day, 
 under the guidance of some one who really under- 
 stands the European capitals. The Major doesn't, 
 and I haven't time to come out here to look after 
 Marjorie's education." 
 
 Miss Garnett seemed a little puzzled. 
 
 " Did you say that Marjorie was your daughter or 
 your niece?/' she said to the Major. 
 
 " Niece," said Meldon ; " but that makes no differ- 
 ence. The Major is just as fond of her as if she 
 was his daughter. He hasn't got a daughter of his 
 own, but I expect she'd be just like Marjorie if 
 he had; so that needn't make any difference to 
 you." 
 
 " I'm not married," said the Major. 
 
 Miss Garnett, the teapot in her hand, looked first 
 at one and then at the other of the two men in front 
 of her. There flashed across her mind recollections 
 of the appalling stories occasionally composed by 
 writers of detective fiction about lonely ladies decoyed 
 into remote places by savage men, and there abom- 
 inably murdered ; but it was impossible to suspect the 
 Major of any such design, and Meldon's face was en- 
 gagingly ingenuous. She smiled feebly, and began
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE i8r 
 
 to pour out the tea. The door of the room was flung 
 open, and Mrs. O'Halloran walked in. 
 
 " Mary Garry is just after coming into the 
 kitchen," she said, " and telling me that Miss Mar- 
 jorie is not to be found, high nor low. I thought it 
 only right for the Major to be told that the child 
 has got lost on us." 
 
 " Keep cool," said Meldon, " and avoid excitement 
 of any kind. Let Mary Garry go out and search 
 again." 
 
 " It would suit you better to go out and search for 
 her yourself, Mr. Meldon, than to be sitting there 
 drinking tea and the poor little girleen maybe carried 
 off by tinkers or the like. As for sending Mary 
 Garry out again, it would fail you to do that. She's 
 lying on the kitchen floor this minute in some kind 
 of a fit, but whether it's the loss of the child that's 
 preying on her, or the way you did be talking to her 
 about them rats that has her demented, I can't say." 
 
 " J. J.," said the Major, '*we must go at once and 
 search for the child." 
 
 "Not at all," said Meldon. "She's all right. 
 Send Paudeen. He'll find her." 
 
 "You'll not send Paudeen," said Mrs. O'Halloran. 
 
 "I will if I like," said Meldon; "and I do like. 
 Paudeen will know where to look for her. Just you 
 despatch him at once, Mrs. O'Halloran ; and then go
 
 182 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 and drag Mary Garry out into the yard and pump 
 cold water over her head until the fit leaves her." 
 
 "You'll not send Paudeen," said Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 "for he's lost, the same as Miss Marjorie. Jamesy 
 Deveril has been stamping up and down the yard, 
 and raising all sorts and cursing like the devil him- 
 self this last half-hour, and sorra the sign of Pau- 
 deen Canavan there is to be found about the place. 
 Him and Miss Marjorie took out the bicycle after 
 the dinner, and they're lost, the two of them." 
 
 " We must have the country searched," said the 
 Major. " I'll get the police. I'll send Jamesy in to 
 Gregg this minute, and tell him to bring all his men, 
 out here at once. I'll telegraph for a detective. 
 Ill " 
 
 " You may," said Mrs. O'Halloran, " but you'll not 
 find them. It's my belief they're gone for good ; and 
 small blame to them. You have the life frightened 
 out of Miss Marjorie, the same as you have Mary 
 Garry druv' into a fit." 
 
 She looked sternly at Meldon as she spoke. The 
 Major hurried from the room to despatch Jamesy at 
 full gallop for the police. Mrs. O'Halloran took no 
 notice of his departure. It wn3 Meldon, and not the 
 Major, whom she regarded as the cause of all the 
 misfortunes which had befallen her. It was with him 
 she meant to reckon.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 183 
 
 " You had Paudeen Canavan beat by the police till 
 he couldn't walk, let alone leap, with the bruises there 
 was on him, and him an orphan. You said you'd 
 have rats out from Doyle's store and set them on to 
 ate Mary Garry, who's an innocent poor girl that 
 isn't accustomed to the like nor can't be expected to 
 put up with it. And you've fetched the like of her " 
 she indicated Miss Garnett with her thumb 
 " down to Miss Marjorie, to be beating her, I sup- 
 pose, or maybe to be putting rats in the poor girleen's 
 bed. Is it any wonder they're gone, she and Pau- 
 deen? No; but the wonder is that Mary Garry isn't 
 off along with them. If it's the tinkers has them 
 and the tinkers'll get them at the latter end they'd 
 be better off than living in the house with the like of 
 you." l 
 
 " If you don't go back to the kitchen," said Mel- 
 don, " and attend to Mary Garry, she'll have all the 
 crockery smashed to bits and herself cut into rib- 
 bons before the fit leaves her. I can hear her this 
 minute kicking plates and dishes off the dresser/' 
 
 " They've took a lump of bacon off the hook in 
 the larder," said Mrs. O'Halloran, " and they've took 
 them biscuits that the Major does be eating after his 
 dinner, and they've took the sardine fishes that the lit- 
 tle lady did have the fancy for. And Mary Garry 
 said to me no later than this morning that she couldn't
 
 184 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 put her hand on Miss Marjorie's comb nor her tooth- 
 brush, high nor low so they've took them too." 
 
 " I'm glad she took the tooth-brush," said Meldon. 
 " It shows that she's a real respect for her mother's 
 wishes. That was one of the things Mrs. Purvis 
 was most particular about. I hope, now, that she'll 
 remember to chew the bacon properly." 
 
 The Major returned breathless. His face was 
 white, and he was evidently in a state of considerable 
 excitement. 
 
 " I've sent off Jamesy," he said. " The police will 
 be here in an hour. In the meantime what shall we 
 do, J. J.? The child's gone." 
 
 " Sit down, Major, and give Miss Garnett her tea. 
 If it will ease your mind I'll take a stroll round the 
 place myself. It's ten to one they're up in the hay- 
 loft or away off among the bracken at the far end 
 of the paddock, eating sardines and raw bacon and 
 water-biscuits. I'll take Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz with 
 me. He's not precisely a blood-hound, so I don't sup- 
 pose it would be any use giving him one of Mar- 
 jorie's shoes to smell before we start. But he has 
 the greatest possible dislike for Paudeen Canavan. 
 Every time he sees that boy he wants to bite him. 
 You take my word for it, Major, if they're hid in 
 any kind of hole, the dog will hunt them out of it."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 185 
 
 " I'll come with you," said the Major. " I can't 
 stay here and drink tea." 
 
 Miss Garnett also volunteered to join the search. 
 
 " Very well," said Meldon. " It seems to ma a 
 pity to waste the tea, for I'm perfectly certain that 
 Mrs. O'Halloran won't make any more for us. But 
 if you both insist on coming with me, we can do the 
 thing systematically. First we'll turn the key in the 
 kitchen door to keep Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary 
 Garry from getting out and tormenting us with fool- 
 ish talk about tinkers. Then I'll show you the way 
 to the yard, Miss Garnett. Search the hayloft care- 
 fully. I'll give you a pitchfork, and if you find them 
 don't hesitate to give Paudeen a jab in the leg. It'll 
 do him good and he'll respect you all the more after- 
 wards. Major, you'll do the kitchen garden. Look 
 into all the cucumber and melon frames, and turn out 
 the potting-shed. If they aren't there, walk slowly 
 along the drive and look up into every tree that it's 
 possible to climb. Get Marjorie down, if they're up 
 a tree, and then give a shout for me, and we'll all 
 throw stones at Paudeen. I'll go off across the pad- 
 dock and let Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz rout about 
 among the bracken. He won't bite Marjorie, but I'll 
 be sorry for Paudeen Canavan if he happens to be 
 lurking anywhere there."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 IT was Miss Garnett who made the first discovery. 
 She satisfied herself that the fugitives were not 
 in the hayloft or in any other part of the stable build- 
 ings, and emerged from the yard, still carrying the 
 pitchfork which Meldon had given her, just as the 
 Major completed his search in the garden. In his 
 nervous anxiety he had smashed the glass of two 
 cucumber-frames and about twenty flower-pots 
 which were piled together in the potting-shed, behind 
 which he supposed that Marjorie might possibly be 
 lurking. He proposed that he and Miss Garnett 
 should each take one side of the drive and thoroughly 
 examine every tree. They were near the gate, and 
 almost hopeless, when Miss Garnett made her discov- 
 ery. Marjorie's bicycle was lying on its side on the 
 grass. The Major crossed the drive and looked at it. 
 There is something in the way a bicycle lies upon the 
 ground which is eloquent of disaster. Its handle- 
 bars twist upwards in a manner very suggestive of 
 broken limbs. Its front wheel is half off the ground, 
 and the top part of its rim sticks up in the air with a 
 curious look of forlorn despair. 
 
 The Major's heart sank within him. 
 1 86
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 187 
 
 " Do you think she's dead ? " he asked. 
 
 Miss Garnett looked round her apprehensively. 
 She was of a sympathetic disposition. The Major's 
 despondency conveyed itself to her. She half-ex- 
 pected to see a horribly mangled corpse perhaps 
 two corpses lying somewhere in the grass. There 
 was, in fact, a shapeless mound half-covered by 
 brambles in the shadow of the wall which separated 
 the grounds of Portsmouth Lodge from the road. 
 Miss Garnett caught sight of it, clutched the Major's 
 arm with one hand and pointed with the other at the 
 object of her fear. 
 
 At that moment Meldon, with Maher-Shalal-Hash- 
 Baz at his heels, appeared at the far end of the drive. 
 He hailed the Major: 
 
 " Found anything ? I didn't get a trace of them 
 in the paddock." 
 
 The Major pointed to the bicycle. Meldon walked 
 up to it and looked it over carefully. He picked it 
 up, twisted it to and fro, and felt the tyre with his 
 finger. 
 
 " It's all right," he said. " Not even punctured. 
 Now what do you infer from the discovery of the 
 bicycle, Major?" 
 
 " I suppose there's been an accident." 
 
 " Quite wrong," said Meldon. " In fact, the proper 
 inference is the exact reverse of that. I should say
 
 188 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 that we are now practically certain that there hasn't 
 been an accident at all events, not a bicycle acci- 
 dent. I've had seventeen bicycle accidents in my 
 time, and my experience is that the machine is al- 
 ways far more injured than the rider. Now there's 
 nothing wrong with this machine at all. Therefore, 
 I think we may safely say that it has simply been 
 laid down in the place where we found it. It fol- 
 lows that Marjorie can't have gone off on it. There- 
 fore observe the simple way in which these things 
 work themselves out if you only treat them logically 
 therefore, she's either taken one of the Major's 
 horses or else she has gone on foot, and therefore 
 can't be far off. Now, has she taken a horse? That 
 ought to be an easy matter to settle." 
 
 "There were two in the stable," said Miss Gar- 
 nett, "and three cows." 
 
 " I saw the chestnut filly and the foal in the pad- 
 dock. I think that pretty well completes your stud, 
 Major, counting in the mare that Jamesy took when 
 he went galloping off for the police. Therefore Mar- 
 jorie hasn't taken a horse, -and so must be somewhere 
 close at hand. You're sure she's not in the garden, 
 or up any of the trees, or in the hayloft?" 
 
 Miss Garnett and the Major were perfectly certain 
 that she could not have escaped their search. 
 
 "Very well," said Meldon. "The next thing to
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 189 
 
 do is to make a systematic search of every field 
 within a radius of one mile of this house. That will 
 take some time ; but we may shorten the business by 
 reasoning carefully before we start. Where would 
 Marjorie be likely to go? It is a well-known fact 
 that every child likes playing with water or fire better 
 than anything else. It can't be fire in this case, for 
 if she and Paudeen had lit one we should see the 
 smoke. That reduces us to water. It isn't abso- 
 lutely certain ; but I should say it's highly probable 
 that Marjorie has gone where there is water. Now 
 there is the sea on the other side of the road, and 
 there's the stream which runs through Flanagan's 
 farm half a mile on beyond this gate. We'll begin 
 with the seashore, as it's the easiest to examine. If 
 we stand on top of the wall we can see it for miles 
 in every direction. It's perfectly flat, and there isn't 
 a rock big enough to hide a top-hat the whole way 
 along it. If they're on the shore we'll spot them at 
 once." 
 
 They were not on the shore. Miss Garnett who 
 put on pince-nez to aid her vision the Major, and 
 Meldon stood in a row on top of the wall and peered 
 up and down along the beach. There was neither 
 man, woman, nor child on it. The Spindrift lay 
 peaceably at her anchor. 
 
 " Now," said Meldon, " we'll go off and trace that
 
 190 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 stream of Flanagan's to its source, if it takes us a 
 week to do it. Hullo ! Who's this ? Oh, it's Gregg 
 in his trap, with a body of cavalry after him." 
 
 Mr. Gregg, the district inspector of police, drove 
 up at full speed. Behind him clattered two mounted 
 constables, armed with swords and spurs, and Jamesy 
 Deveril on a mare which had evidently been ridden 
 hard. 
 
 " I happened to be in the barrack," said Gregg, 
 " when your man told me that your niece had been 
 kidnapped by tinkers. I started at once with the 
 two mounted men. The sergeant and three more 
 men are coming after us on a car. I told them to 
 bring their carbines. I left word for Ford to come 
 out as soon as he could so as to be ready to take 
 depositions and make out a warrant for the arrest." 
 
 "That's all right," said Meldon. "If you don't 
 actually bag a tinker you can at all events carry off 
 Paudeen Canavan under a strong escort. I should 
 say that the proper charge to make against him 
 would be one of forcible abduction of a ward in 
 Chancery. But, of course, we can't be sure of the 
 circumstances till we catch them. It's quite on the 
 cards that Marjorie has abducted him." 
 
 " We don't know what has happened to the child," 
 said the Major. " She has run away, and we can't 
 find her."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 191 
 
 Mr. Gregg and his two troopers seemed a little 
 disappointed. 
 
 A pitched battle with a determined band of mili- 
 tary tinkers would have broken the monotony of then- 
 lives. A search for a stray child was scarcely digni- 
 fied, and might be very laborious. It was not the 
 kind of work which the police were accustomed to 
 undertake. But Major Kent was a popular man in 
 the neighbourhood, and everyone was anxious to 
 help him find his niece. 
 
 " I've just arrived at the conclusion," said Meldon, 
 " that Marjorie and Paudeen have gone to the banks 
 of the stream which runs through Flanagan's farm 
 with a view to camping out for the night. I'll rea- 
 son it all out for you again if you like ; but the Ma- 
 jor is rather impatient, so perhaps we had better get 
 to work at once. My idea, now that you have come, 
 would be to let the mounted men patrol the two 
 banks of the stream, with a view to preventing the 
 fugitives breaking cover and escaping across country. 
 They can ride down Paudeen Canavan if any attempt 
 of the sort is made ; but, of course, they must be care- 
 ful not to hurt Marjorie. Then let the sergeant and 
 the infantry force walk up the stream it's quite 
 shallow and examine every nook and corner. You 
 and I, Gregg, will go up to the top of the hill with 
 the Major's telescope and direct operations. We'll
 
 IQ2 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 take two flags with us. I suppose your men under- 
 stand flag-signalling thoroughly." 
 
 The car with the sergeant and the three constables 
 on it, drew up at the gate. The men were in full 
 marching kit. They carried their carbines. Their 
 grey capes were rolled up into bulky sausages and 
 strapped like bandoliers across their chests. They 
 stood rigidly at attention while Mr. Gregg gave them 
 their orders. 
 
 " Now, Major," said Meldon. " You'd better help 
 Miss Garnett down off that wall and take her in to 
 finish her tea. We sha'n't want you any more. If 
 Miss Garnett will get Marjorie's bed ready for her, I 
 think we'll put her straight into it as soon as we 
 catch her. She won't want anything more to eat this 
 evening. She'll have had raw bacon, sardines, and 
 water-biscuits. I'm sorry to give you so much trou- 
 ble, Miss Garnett. Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary Garry 
 ought to do that work; but I'd be afraid to let them 
 out of the kitchen. There'd very likely be a riot if 
 they got loose. I expect by this time Mary Garry's 
 fits will have turned to lunacy, and Mrs. O'Halloran. 
 will be foaming at the mouth with impotent rage. 
 Now, Major, hop down." 
 
 " I'll go with the police up the stream," said the 
 Major. " I'd like to know the worst as soon as pos- 
 sible."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 193 
 
 " Yes, do," said Miss Garnett. " I don't want any 
 tea, really. I'll have everything ready for the poor 
 child when you bring her home." 
 
 " Her room," said Meldon, " is next yours. It's 
 the only other room on that side of the passage, so 
 you can't make a mistake about it." 
 
 Major Kent's telescope was a heavy instrument, 
 mounted on a tripod stand. It took Meldon and 
 Gregg some time to get it up the hill. The search- 
 party had already commenced operations when they 
 reached the top. Meldon, who took the first look at 
 the scene, was just in time to see Flanagan, the 
 farmer, bolt into his cabin and shut the door, when 
 the police marched into his field. 
 
 " I expect," said Meldon, " that he thinks you're 
 going to evict him. What a relief it will be to his 
 mind when he ventures out after a while and finds 
 that you're not. I daresay he and his wife are piling 
 up all their furniture against the door at the present 
 moment, intending to resist you to their last gasp. 
 That's the worst of being a policeman in this country. 
 Nobody will believe that your intentions are benevo- 
 lent, even when you don't want to do any harm to 
 anybody." 
 
 Gregg! put his eye to the telescope and, after watch- 
 ing his men for a while, swept the instrument round 
 and took a comprehensive survey of the whole neigh-
 
 I 9 4 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 bourhood. With the telescope pointed at the sea, he 
 suddenly paused. 
 
 "Look here, Meldon," he said. "What's that a 
 couple of miles out in the bay?" 
 
 Gregg's tone was serious. He gripped Meldon 
 tightly by the arm and bade him look through the 
 telescope. 
 
 " There's a small boat a punt out there," said 
 Meldon, " and, as far as I can make out, there's no- 
 body in her. The wind's off shore, and she's drifting 
 out to sea." 
 
 "Good God!" said Gregg. "It must be Kent's 
 punt, and the child has fallen out of her and been 
 drowned." 
 
 " Don't get excited," said Meldon. " And don't 
 leap at conclusions in that way. We're not certain 
 yet that that's the Major's punt; and if it is we've 
 no reason to suppose that the child went out in her. 
 Even if she did, she may be in her still. She may be 
 lying asleep at the bottom, and we couldn't see 
 her." 
 
 " Come down at once," said Gregg, " and let's see 
 if the punt is on the shore." 
 
 " All right. We may as well go down as stay here 
 on the top of this hill. But let's go quietly. The 
 great thing, on these occasions, is to avoid all un- 
 necessary fuss. What a blessing it is that the Major
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 195 
 
 is quietly paddling up Flanagan's stream! If he'd 
 seen that boat he'd be a raging lunatic." 
 
 On the way down the hill Meldon gave his reasons 
 for not feeling any anxiety about Marjorie. 
 
 "That young scamp, Paudeen Canavan, has gone 
 with her," he said, " and wherever the one of them is 
 the other will be. It's ridiculous to suppose that 
 Paudeen could possibly be drowned. Boys of that 
 sort never are. They're like fleas. You might hold 
 one under water for five minutes and it would come 
 up smiling afterwards. If Paudeen's safe, we may 
 assume that Marjorie is too. After all, the punt may 
 be in its place on the shore." 
 
 It was not. The marks of its keel were visible for 
 several yards in the sand. On the stones beside the 
 place where the punt usually lay was a half-empty 
 package of kitchen salt. Meldon stared at it. 
 
 "They've been here," he said, "and they've gone 
 off in the punt. What's more, they've left some of 
 their provisions behind them. That package is one 
 of the things Mrs. O'Halloran mentioned as being 
 lost. If ever I get hold of Paudeen Canavan I'll 
 skin him and rub that salt in afterwards." 
 
 "Where's the nearest boat?" said Gregg. "We 
 must go after the punt at once." 
 
 " I don't believe there's a boat between this and 
 Ballymoy," said Meldon.
 
 iQ6 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " I'll send one of the mounted men off to the coast- 
 guard station," said Gregg. "That will be the 
 quickest." 
 
 "That will take hours," said Meldon. "And, be- 
 sides, any attempt to communicate with the police 
 will bring the Major down on us. The thing for us 
 to do is to swim off to the Spindrift and go after 
 them in her. Could you swim that far in your 
 trousers and shirt ? " 
 
 " I could, of course." 
 
 " Very well. Come on. We'll get the mainsail on 
 her, and we'll have that punt in half an hour. It's 
 far quicker than sending to the coastguards, and it'll 
 make less fuss. I wouldn't ask you to do the swim 
 in your clothes, only that we've both of us got more 
 or less of a position to keep up, and it wouldn't suit 
 us to go sailing a yacht about the bay stark naked. 
 We'd look rather fools coming ashore afterwards; 
 particularly if Marjorie is in Flanagan's fields after 
 all. Of course, there may be a suit of oilskins on 
 board, but it wouldn't do to count on that for certain ; 
 and I don't fancy myself making a public appearance 
 draped in a spinnaker." 
 
 Gregg had his coat and boots off before Meldon 
 had finished speaking, and was up to his knees in 
 water. 
 
 "Wait a minute," said Meldon. "I'm not quite
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 197 
 
 ready yet. I won't keep you long; but I see Maher- 
 Shalal-Hash-Baz coming across the field, and I must 
 throw a few stones at him to drive him off. He's 
 not a water dog, and he'd only make a nuisance of 
 himself trying to swim after us to the yacht. Any- 
 how, you can't do anything without me ; so there's no 
 use going off by yourself. It's not at all easy to get 
 into a ten-ton boat from the water when there's no- 
 body on board to help you. The only chance is over 
 the anchor-chain. You'd better let me have the first 
 try at it. If I get in I'll drop a bight of rope over- 
 board for you." 
 
 They swam out together. Meldon gripped the 
 anchor-chain with both hands and twined his legs 
 round it under water. Then he attempted to swarm 
 up it. The yacht was dragged forward by his weight 
 and her curved bow hung over him. He sank, pulled 
 down by the slackened chain ; but he came to the sur- 
 face again and gripped the chain higher up. A puff 
 of wind swung the yacht back from her moorings, 
 tightening the chain and lifting his head and shoul- 
 ders clear of the water. Again the Spindrift surged 
 forward, and again Meldon was plunged under water. 
 Three times the manoeuvre was repeated, and each 
 time Meldon got a grip higher on the chain, At 
 length he grabbed the gunwale with one hand and 
 scrambled on board over the bow. He seized the
 
 198 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 throat halyard, which lay in a coil beside the mast, 
 and flung a bight of it overboard to Gregg. A cou- 
 ple of minutes afterwards the two men stood drip- 
 ping and breathless on the deck. 
 
 " Now," said Meldon, " get the cover off the main- 
 sail." 
 
 Gregg ran aft, and began to loose the lashing of 
 the sail-cover. Suddenly he stood still. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he said. " There's somebody on 
 board. It must be the children. I hear one of them 
 crying in the cabin." 
 
 As he spoke Marjorie put her head up through the 
 fore-hatch and confronted Meldon. 
 
 " Oh, J. J.," she said. " It's you. I knew it 
 wasn't anyone who'd do us any harm. But Paudeen 
 said it was the police come to take us to prison, and 
 he began to cry." 
 
 " Paudeen was perfectly right," said Meldon. 
 " That damp gentleman standing near the stern of 
 the boat is a policeman, though he doesn't look like 
 one at present. He'll take Paudeen straight to prison 
 and feed him on bread and water and the cat-o'-nine 
 tails. What on earth are you doing here, Marjorie ? " 
 
 " Just living," said Marjorie calmly. " We thought 
 it would be nice to come out here to live. We 
 brought plenty of food with us, and we're going to 
 sleep with all our clothes on in the two funny little
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 199 
 
 beds which fold up. We've got them unfolded. 
 Uncle John told me how to do it one evening." 
 
 " As soon as ever I get you ashore," said Meldon, 
 " you'll go straight to your ordinary bed in a nice 
 white nightdress. We got a governess for you to^ 
 day, and she's waiting for you now. I shall advise 
 her to tie a rope round your waist and fasten the 
 other end of it to the leg of the dining-room table. 
 Your unfortunate uncle is at this moment up to his 
 knees in a cold stream, tearing out the remainder of 
 his hair in handfuls. Mary Garry has got a fit and 
 is lying on the kitchen floor. Mrs. O'Halloran is to 
 be taken to the lunatic asylum this evening, and the 
 Royal Irish Constabulary are quartering Flanagan's 
 fields like red setter dogs on August 12. What have 
 you to say for yourself?" 
 
 " I thought you'd be sensible, J. J.," said Marjorie 
 " even if all the rest were silly."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 44 T J-" sa id Gregg, who stood dripping at the 
 J stern of the yacht, " what do you mean to do 
 about going ashore ? " 
 
 " We'll row ashore in the punt as soon as we've 
 picked her up. Get the cover off the mainsail." 
 
 " Oh, rot ! We can't go sailing about the bay 
 soaked to the skin when there's no need." 
 
 " There is need. The Major's valuable punt is 
 adrift. Besides, Marjorie would like a sail. Would- 
 n't you, Marjorie?" 
 
 " I'm not sure," said Marjorie. " Would Uncle 
 John be vexed ? " 
 
 " As a matter of fact," said Meldon, " I expect he 
 would. But I'm surprised at your thinking of that. 
 You haven't shown much consideration for his feel- 
 ings so far." 
 
 " I see a trap coming along the road from Bally- 
 moy," said Gregg. " I expect it's Ford. When he 
 gets near enough we'll shout and tell him to send for 
 a boat to take us ashore." 
 
 "All right," said Meldon, "we'll howl, howl for 
 all we're worth. I'll say one, two, three, go, and 
 we'll all three howl together as much as possible on
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 201 
 
 the same note. Or, wait a minute, why should we 
 make ourselves hoarse when we needn't? We'll have 
 up Paudeen Canavan and make him howl. I'll lash 
 him to the starboard runner with his face towards 
 the shore and you shall wallop him, Gregg, with the 
 end of the mainsheet, carefully knotted. In that way 
 we'll kill two birds in fact three birds with one 
 stone. Paudeen will get what he richly deserves; 
 Ford's attention will be attracted without our giving 
 ourselves sore throats; and the exercise will keep you 
 from catching cold. Go down and fetch up the pris- 
 oner, Gregg. If he doesn't come at once, we'll have 
 it in for him to-morrow for resisting arrest." 
 
 " Please, J. J.," said Marjorie, " don't beat poor 
 Paudeen." 
 
 " I will beat him," said Meldon. " At least, I'll set 
 on Mr. Gregg to beat him, and if he tires I'll take a 
 turn myself." 
 
 " If you hit Paudeen," said Marjorie, " I'll jump 
 straight into the sea and be drowned." 
 
 Meldon looked at her. There were tears tears 
 of passion, not of sorrow in her eyes. He realised 
 that Marjorie had a temper, and was quite capable 
 of desperate deeds when it was roused. 
 
 "Do you mean to say, Marjorie, that it wouldn't 
 be a pleasure to you to see Paudeen walloped, and 
 to listen to his yells?"
 
 202 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Marjorie clenched her fists and rushed at Meldon. 
 She succeeded in striking him three or four times and 
 then glared at him ferociously. 
 
 "All right, Marjorie. If you'll stop beating me 
 I'll let Paudeen off. There, I promise he sha'n't be 
 touched. Honour bright." 
 
 Marjorie's rage vanished as quickly as it had been 
 aroused. She took Meldon's hand again. Gregg, 
 dragging the extremely unwilling Paudeen by the 
 collar of the coat, came on deck. 
 
 "Prisoner at the bar," said Meldon, "you have 
 been recommended to mercy by the jury you are 
 the jury, Marjorie. You deserve to be beaten, but 
 you won't be beaten if you howl in a satisfactory 
 manner. If you simply whimper or shriek in any 
 way that isn't distinctly audible on shore I suppose 
 if he won't howl, Marjorie, you've no objection to my 
 giving him a whack or two just to start him off." 
 
 " Please, Paudeen, howl," said Marjorie ; " I'll 
 help you." 
 
 Paudeen stood, a picture of blind terror, in front 
 of Gregg. His eyes, red from his weeping in the 
 cabin, were fixed apprehensively on Meldon. He 
 evidently did not in the least understand what was 
 said to him. 
 
 " Now, then," said Meldon, " it's your only chance. 
 Yell, shriek, shout, scream, bellow, sing if you pre-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 203 
 
 fer it; it will come to much the same thing. Make 
 any kind of noise you like that will be heard on 
 shore." 
 
 Paudeen stood sulkily silent. 
 
 " It's no use," said Meldon. " The boy's gone 
 stupid. Marjorie, I believe you've been ill-treating 
 him in some perfectly frightful manner; you've bul- 
 lied the sense out of him. We'll have to do the 
 shouting ourselves after all. Now then one, two, 
 three yell ! " 
 
 A loud cry, discordant, terrifying, swept across the 
 water. Mr. Ford's horse shied violently. A distant 
 mounted policeman turned in his saddle, stared at the 
 yacht, and began to gallop across the field in which 
 he was stationed. Flanagan, the fear of immediate 
 eviction forgotten in amazement, emerged from the 
 door of his cabin followed by his wife. Major Kent, 
 the sergeant, and three constables climbed out of the 
 river-bed and ran towards the shore. Down the 
 drive from Portsmouth Lodge came Miss Garnett, 
 Mrs. O'Halloran, and Mary Garry. They ran as if 
 they were engaged in a race for some immensely de- 
 sirable prize. They kept together for about thirty 
 yards, then Mrs. O'Halloran dropped behind. 
 
 "I'll back Mary Garry," said Meldon. "When 
 they get to the wall she'll take the lead. There! 
 didn't I say so?"
 
 204 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Mary Garry 'climbed the obstacle with marvellous 
 agility, and with a flying leap cleared the ditch and 
 landed on the road. Miss Garnett mismanaged her 
 petticoats, and remained tangled and helpless till 
 Jamesy Deveril, rushing from the gate lodge, rescued 
 her. 
 
 " That's your new governess, Marjorie," said Mel- 
 don. " She doesn't show up very well in an obstacle 
 race. You'll have a hold over her from this on. 
 Whenever she turns nasty over an irregular French 
 verb or anything of that sort, all you've got to do is 
 to offer her any odds she doesn't beat Mary Garry 
 over wire fences and stone walls." 
 
 The runners gathered in a group on the shore. 
 The mounted police, in the excitement of the moment, 
 even forced their horses into the water. 
 
 " Get a boat ! " shouted Meldon. 
 
 A babel of cries answered him. Everyone on shore 
 wanted to understand the position of affairs. 
 
 " Get a boat ! " shouted Meldon again. " I can't 
 and won't explain things at the top of my voice when 
 I haven't a dry stitch on me." 
 
 There was a hurried consultation on the beach. 
 Then the two mounted police went galloping, one 
 eastwards towards Ballymoy, the other westwards to 
 see if a boat could be found more quickly in that di- 
 rection.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 205 
 
 " That's all right," said Meldon. " Now we've 
 nothing to do but sit down and be as comfortable as 
 we can for the next hour. I vote we go below, light 
 the galley stove, and fry Marjorie's bacon. I sup- 
 pose you haven't finished the bacon, have you, Mar- 
 jorie?" 
 
 " No. We didn't eat any bacon. We only ate the 
 sardines and some of the biscuits and the cake. We'll 
 have the bacon now, and I'll cook it when you have 
 lit the fire." 
 
 " I say, Gregg," said Meldon, as he poured paraffin 
 oil over the coals, " it's just as well I insisted on your 
 keeping on your shirt and trousers for the swim, 
 wasn't it? There's rather a large audience on shore. 
 You wouldn't have cared to face Mary Garry and the 
 new governess with any less on you than you have at 
 present." 
 
 Even Paudeen was admitted to the feast which fol- 
 lowed. There were two slices of bacon and four 
 water-biscuits for each member of the party. Mar- 
 jorie's happiness was complete when Meldon lit the 
 swinging lamp. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, " you didn't bring any to- 
 bacco with you, Marjorie, or a few of your Uncle 
 John's cigars? No! Well, it can't be helped. But 
 if ever you go off on a yachting cruise again bring 
 some tobacco. Even if you and Paudeen don't smoke
 
 206 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 yourselves, you ought to have some on board. You 
 never know who may drop in on you unexpectedly. 
 Now, Gregg-, an evening of this sort is not complete 
 without music. Marjorie would like to hear you 
 sing. As an officer in one of the armed forces of 
 the Empire the most appropriate thing you could give 
 would be ' Rule, Britannia.' After that, Paudeen, 
 who is a strong Nationalist, will give us 'God save 
 Ireland.' Then, as neither I nor Marjorie sing, we'll 
 talk politics. We'll have a regular debate. 'Will 
 tariff reform be beneficial to the cause of the Irish 
 language in the new University ? ' and ' Ought the 
 advocates of women's suffrage to support the German 
 Emperor ? ' The affirmative in each case will be 
 moved by Mr. Gregg, D.I., R.I.C. ; the negative by 
 Mr. Paudeen Canavan. The chair will be taken by 
 Miss Marjorie Purvis. Hullo! They're shouting at 
 us from the shore. I expect the coastguard boat has 
 turned up. Now, Marjorie, when you step ashore 
 carry yourself with dignity. Recollect that you are 
 the heroine of a most exciting adventure a thing 
 which will be talked of in Ballymoy when the hair 
 of our children's children is turning grey. Paudeen, 
 you will sit in the bow of the boat and whistle a 
 funeral march of some sort Chopin's for choice 
 to give an air of solemnity to the proceedings. 
 Here's the boat ! Hold your head up, Gregg, and try
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 207 
 
 to look as if you had all your clothes on and weren't 
 catching your death of cold. Marjorie, the Lord 
 Lieutenant's wife won't have half the chance of show- 
 ing herself off next Tuesday that you are going to 
 have now ; so make the most of it." 
 
 A loud cheer from the shore greeted the party as 
 they stepped into the boat. Meldon took one of the 
 Spindrift's flags in his hand, stood in the stern, and 
 waved it. The coastguards, inspired by the moving 
 scene, pulled briskly. Meldon's advice to Marjorie 
 was unfortunately wasted. She had no opportunity 
 of behaving with dignity. As the boat grounded, 
 Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary Garry rushed into the 
 water and seized the child. Between them they car- 
 ried her ashore. They, Miss Garnett, Jamesy Dev- 
 eril's wife, Flanagan's wife, and nine strange chil- 
 dren, who had gathered to the scene as mysteriously 
 as vultures to a battlefield, formed a group round 
 Marjorie, repelling the Major, who wanted to sat- 
 isfy himself that his niece was really safe. Maher- 
 Shalal-Hash-Baz yelped with frenzied delight at the 
 return of his master. He also succeeded in biting 
 the heel of a policeman's boot and tearing a long hole 
 in the leg 1 of Paudeen Cana van's trousers. Major 
 Kent, driven from the neighbourhood of Marjorie, 
 wrung the hands of Meldon and Gregg, and then 
 tipped everybody who could be tipped, includ-
 
 208 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 ing Flanagan the farmer, with the utmost liberality. 
 
 " I'm glad to see," said Meldon, " that you've got 
 over that fit you had, Mary Garry. Perhaps next 
 time I tell you to bring tea into the drawing-room 
 you'll bring it without arguing." 
 
 "Let the girl be," said Mrs. O'Halloran. 
 " Haven't you had your 'nough of mischief -making 
 for one day? Or do you want to drive her off into 
 hysterics again ? " 
 
 " Miss Garnett," said Meldon, " I suppose it was 
 you who let Mrs. O'Halloran out of the kitchen, 
 where I had her locked up safe. I don't blame you, 
 for I'm sure you meant kindly; but when you know 
 her better you'll wish you hadn't been so foolish." 
 
 Mrs. O'Halloran and Miss Garnett had evidently 
 become fast friends. Neither of them took any no- 
 tice of what Meldon said. They took Marjorie by 
 her hands, each holding one of them, and led her up 
 towards the house. Mary Garry and the other two 
 women followed, all of them weeping- with excite- 
 ment and joy. The nine children, their curiosity 
 about Marjorie more or less satisfied, remained on 
 the shore to watch Meldon and Gregg put on their 
 clothes. 
 
 Major Kent hospitably asked Meldon, Gregg, and 
 Ford to dinner. Meldon alone accepted the invita- 
 tion. Gregg pleaded a desire for dry clothes, and
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 209 
 
 declined to accept the Major's offer of a suit. Ford 
 said that his own dinner was waiting for him at home. 
 Both of them wanted to have the satisfaction of be- 
 ing the first to tell the news of the adventure to their 
 wives. 
 
 Meldon, dressed in the suit of the Major's clothes 
 which had been offered to Gregg, complained of hun- 
 ger. There seemed to be little chance of getting any- 
 thing to eat. Mrs. O'Halloran had not so much as 
 boiled a potato during the afternoon, and flatly de- 
 clined to attempt any kind of cookery. She and Miss 
 Garnett sat in Marjorie's room. They discussed the 
 day's proceedings till the child went to sleep, and 
 then continued to discuss them in whispers. Mary 
 Garry flitted rapidly in and out of the room until 
 Mrs. O'Halloran sternly forbade her to venture up- 
 stairs again. She then retired into the yard and fed 
 Paudeen Canavan on cold beef and soda-bread. 
 Meldon, driven to desperation by want of food, 
 caught her in the act. He rescued the beef, and suc- 
 ceeded, after raiding the larder and the store-room, 
 in gathering, other materials for a meal. 
 
 With satisfied appetite he and Major Kent retired 
 to the study and shut the door. 
 
 " I shall telegraph to-morrow morning for Mar- 
 garet," said the Major. " I can't stand the respon- 
 sibility of taking charge of that child any longer."
 
 210 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " I daresay you're sorry now," said Meldon, " that 
 you didn't invite my little girl when I suggested it. 
 She'd have looked after Marjorie, and all this 
 wouldn't have happened." 
 
 " I shall telegraph for Margaret to-morrow," said 
 the Major stubbornly. 
 
 " You may telegraph if you like ; but if you do, 
 you'll simply infuriate your sister, who won't a bit 
 like being dragged away from the European capitals, 
 and you won't be any nearer getting out of the very 
 awkward position you're in now. I don't know, Ma- 
 jor, whether you quite realise what you've done, but 
 you and Marjorie will figure in every paper in the 
 United Kingdom in the course of the next three 
 days." 
 
 " Nonsense." 
 
 " It's not nonsense. Here you've had the entire 
 police force of this part of the county turned out in 
 full uniform, with their officer at their head. You've 
 had a Resident Magistrate ready to administer any 
 Act of Parliament you chose to ask for. You've had 
 four coastguards, commanded by their officer with 
 brass buttons on his coat, rowing long distances in a 
 large black boat a boat that belongs to the British 
 Navy. You couldn't have made more fuss if the 
 Germans and the Russians together had attacked 
 Portsmouth Lodge in fire-balloons. You can't do
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 211 
 
 that kind of thing and expect to keep it quiet after- 
 wards." 
 
 " Nonsense," said the Major. " Who'd write to the 
 papers? I sha'n't. Ford won't. Nor will Gregg. 
 I don't suppose you will." 
 
 " I'll tell you who'll write. Doyle's nephew. He's 
 already done a long account of the Lord Lieutenant's 
 visit for the Dublin papers. He expects to make at 
 least thirty shillings out of it. Now if a function of 
 that kind a thing which occurs practically every 
 week during the first year any Lord Lieutenant is in 
 Ireland if it's worth thirty bob, what do you sup- 
 pose the papers will pay for a really exciting thing 
 like this? I don't know, of course; but I should say 
 not less than five pounds. Do you suppose that 
 Doyle's nephew will let an opportunity of the kind 
 slip? Not he. He wouldn't be Doyle's nephew if he 
 did. He's round at the police barrack this minute, I 
 expect, interviewing the sergeant and picking up pic- 
 turesque details from the men. When he's got all 
 he can out of them he'll go on to the Coastguard sta- 
 tion. He's sure to do a paragraph about you as a 
 grief-stricken uncle, overwhelmed by a sudden and 
 totally unexpected calamity. He'll work in Mary 
 Garry and Mrs. O'Halloran. He'll trace out Olivia's 
 antecedents and describe her personal appearance. 
 He'll telegraph the whole thing to-night at about nine
 
 212 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 o'clock, so as to have it in good time for the Dublin 
 papers to-morrow morning. The English press will 
 copy it the next day." 
 
 " I don't believe," said the Major, " that the news- 
 papers will print a rigmarole of that sort. What on 
 earth interest would the public take in a little girl 
 going for a picnic to a yacht?" 
 
 "That won't be the point at all," said Meldon. 
 "If there was nothing more than that the papers 
 wouldn't so much as say 'Thank you' to Doyle's 
 nephew. The real value of the story lies in your 
 ridiculous behaviour; in the summoning of a small 
 army of police and coastguards to rescue a child who 
 was perfectly safe all the time." 
 
 "Let them print what they like," said the Major 
 desperately. " It won't matter to me if they choose 
 to make fools of themselves. But, of course, they 
 won't. Even if the Dublin papers mention the mat- 
 ter, they'll say very little about it; and no other pa- 
 per will copy them/' 
 
 "Won't they? Just you wait and see. This is 
 the month of August, and Parliament isn't sitting. 
 There's hardly a single politician in the whole coun- 
 try making a speech, even on a Sunday. They're all 
 playing golf. The wretched reporters are wandering 
 about with notebooks in their hands, driven to des- 
 peration for the want of something to write about.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 313 
 
 They have motor-car accidents and ' Sad fatalities 
 while bathing' stuck into the most prominent places 
 in their papers. They'll be down on you in swarms. 
 The first one will arrive in all probability the day 
 after to-morrow, and from that on you won't have a 
 quiet hour. If I were you I'd get Paudeen and Mar- 
 jorie and yourself photographed in a group. Leave 
 a couple of hundred copies of the picture at the gate 
 lodge, and tell Jamesy Deveril to give one to each 
 man who comes to see you. You might stave off the 
 worst of them that way." 
 
 " I shall telegraph to Margaret," said the Major. 
 " She's in Vienna now. She might be here on Mon- 
 day or Tuesday if she started at once."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MAJOR KENT spent an uneasy night. He 
 slept fitfully, and awoke more than once with 
 a violent start. At five o'clock in the morning sleep 
 departed from him altogether. He lay wide awake 
 and stared at the ceiling, while the most annoying 
 thoughts fastened on his brain and gnawed at it. He 
 did not really believe that Marjorie's adventure would 
 become a newspaper sensation, but every word that 
 Meldon had said came back to him in the early morn- 
 ing decked in an appalling garment of plausibility. 
 He already saw the leaded headlines and his own- 
 name figuring in enormous type. He reasoned with 
 himself, but at five o'clock in the morning the most 
 hard-headed man reasons with himself in vain. 
 Bankruptcy, at that hour, seems to most of us in- 
 evitable ; public disgrace of the most abominable kind 
 hangs by a frayed thread over our heads ; our wives 
 and children have ceased to love us ; our home is des- 
 olate; our future hopeless. From the hideous pros- 
 pect of newspaper publicity the Major's thoughts 
 turned to other worries. He felt himself entirely 
 incapable of dealing with Marjorie. He did not be- 
 lieve that Miss Garnett or anyone else could control 
 314
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 215 
 
 her. She had escaped two perils the peril of wild 
 horses and the peril of the sea. The next thing, no 
 doubt, would be fire. Portsmouth Lodge would blaze 
 suddenly, unaccountably. Marjorie's charred re- 
 mains, with those of Miss Garnett, Mrs. O'Halloran, 
 Mary Garry, and Paudeen would be discovered among 
 the ruins. The Major himself would escape unwill- 
 ingly and go through life afterwards a stricken man, 
 receiving by every post the intolerable reproaches of 
 his sister Margaret. 
 
 The devils who manipulate the tortures of the 
 wakeful man at dawn are swift and versatile. They 
 pack into an hour such mental suffering that their 
 victim believes himself to have been upon the rack 
 for months. They scorn consistency. After show- 
 ing the Major the hideous vision of his homestead in 
 ashes and putting him through the ceremony of bury- 
 ing five scorched corpses, they changed the scene. 
 He saw himself engaged to be married to Miss Gar- 
 nett. He did not want to marry her, he had not pro- 
 posed to marry her; but in some mysterious manner 
 he was in honour bound to her. At the altar of his 
 parish church stood Meldon, grinning abominably. 
 There was an end of peaceful days. He saw plainly 
 that in the future he would be dragged up to Dublin 
 five or six times a year, made to stay in large and 
 noisy hotels, taken to concerts, and compelled to buy
 
 216 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 things he did not want. His polo ponies would be 
 taken away from him and sold; his paddock laid out 
 in rose-gardens and herbaceous borders. Women 
 would swarm into his house, drinking tea there every 
 afternoon. There would be small bits of white cal- 
 ico left on his study floor to offend his eye. Balls 
 of wool would lie about in dark places ready to en- 
 tangle his feet. The rattle of a sewing-machine 
 would make his evening hours unbearable. He saw 
 himself a tame man of the drawing-room, effervescing 
 with mild jokes and degradingly absorbed in minor 
 gossip. The Spindrift would rot uncared-for at her 
 anchorage. 
 
 He heard the clock in the hall strike six, and felt 
 that it was impossible for him to bear his torments 
 any longer. He rose and dressed. Strung to the ex- 
 tremest pitch of resolve, he went down to the gate 
 lodge and roused Jamesy Deveril. He bade him sad- 
 dle a horse and ride at once to the post-office in Bally- 
 moy. Jamesy pointed out that the office would not 
 be open until eight o'clock, and that nothing would 
 be gained by starting before half-past seven. The 
 Major went into the house and composed a telegram 
 to his sister Margaret. 
 
 " Come here at once," he wrote. " The position of 
 affairs is critical. Marjorie, though not ill, is in 
 constant danger."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 217 
 
 Jamesy departed with this message at half-past 
 seven. Only after he had gone did the Major recol- 
 lect that it was Sunday. The chances were against 
 the telegram getting all the way to Vienna on a Sun- 
 day; but it would at all events start. The alarming 
 nature of the message might move a Dublin clerk to 
 get it through as far as London. Then there would 
 be every hope of its reaching Margaret Purvis early 
 on Monday. If she started at once and surely no 
 mother in receipt of such a telegram would fail to 
 start at once she might reach Ballymoy on Tues- 
 day afternoon. 
 
 At breakfast the Major began to feel that he had 
 perhaps worded the telegram too strongly. Marjorie 
 and Miss Garnett appeared together. They sat to- 
 gether at one side of the table. Nobody looking at 
 Majorie would have supposed her capable of causing 
 the smallest annoyance or anxiety. She was dressed 
 in her blue frock, and the tear in it was carefully 
 mended. Her hair was sleek, and tied neatly with 
 a blue ribbon. Her face shone with much washing, 
 and expressed a gentle submissiveness which came near 
 to being prim. She said, "Yes, Uncle John," "No, 
 Uncle John," when he addressed her. She smiled 
 with meek good-humour when he spoke. Only once 
 did she show the smallest sign of animation, and that 
 was when she heard that she was to go to church.
 
 2i8 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 "Will J. J. preach?" she asked. 
 
 Miss Garnett did not look as if she wanted to 
 marry anyone. She was most demure and entirely 
 devoted to Marjorie. She scarcely ever raised her 
 eyes from her plate, and said little' more than " Thank 
 you " and " No, thank you," when the Major spoke 
 to her. He felt that the sending of the telegram 
 might have been postponed until Monday morning. 
 Nevertheless, he nerved himself after breakfast to the 
 point of delivering a solemn and, he hoped, impress- 
 ive lecture to his niece. 
 
 " Marjorie," he said, " now that Miss Garnett is 
 here, I shall expect you to settle down and behave 
 with propriety. There must be no more playing in 
 the yard with Paudeen Canavan." 
 
 " No, Uncle John, no more playing at all." 
 
 " I didn't say there was to be no more playing. I 
 hope you will play with Miss Garnett. You will 
 play lawn-tennis and croquet, and and other 
 suitable games at proper times. Every morning you 
 will do two hours' lessons before luncheon." 
 
 "Yes, Uncle John." 
 
 Marjorie's tone was dutiful, but there was a slight 
 break in her voice. 
 
 "Not very difficult lessons," said the Major, who 
 felt that he must not push his severity too far "just 
 a little history without dates, and some French.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 219 
 
 Perhaps, Miss Garnett, the irregular verbs might be 
 omitted for the present. Get on as far as you can 
 without them. There need be no arithmetic." 
 
 " If you like, Uncle John, I'll do arithmetic. I've 
 got as far as long division of money." 
 
 " The lessons need not be very difficult. You -un- 
 derstand, Miss Garnett? But they must be abso- 
 lutely regular. Nothing must be allowed to break in 
 upon the two hours before luncheon. In the after- 
 noon you will go for a walk, taking with you either a 
 botany book or materials for sketching. This will be 
 the er the curriculum every day." 
 
 " But, Uncle John " 
 
 "Yes, Marjorie?" 
 
 " Not next Tuesday." 
 
 "Certainly," said the Major. "The routine on 
 next Tuesday will be precisely the same as on all the 
 other days. I see no reason whatever for making an 
 exception of next Tuesday." 
 
 "But J. J. promised that I was to see the Lord 
 Lieutenant, and I was to be a fairy. Oh, Uncle 
 John, please say I may go with J. J. on Tuesday and 
 wear my fairy dress." 
 
 " Certainly not," said the Major sternly. " I 
 never cared for that Lord Lieutenant business, and I 
 won't have you mixed up in it." 
 
 Marjorie began to cry. She wept bitterly, and
 
 220 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 choking sobs succeeded each other in quick succes- 
 sion. 
 
 " Come, Marjorie, dear," said Miss Garnett. 
 " When your uncle says you are not to go to see the 
 Lord Lieutenant you must think no more about it. 
 If you will leave her to me, please, Major Kent, I will 
 explain it to her." 
 
 The Major turned to leave the room. He was 
 pursued by a heartbroken cry from Marjorie. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle John ! I want to present an address 
 and to be a fairy. I can't bear not to. Do let me, 
 and I'll promise, always, always to be good. I'll 
 never go on the yacht again or take things out of the 
 kitchen." 
 
 If Miss Garnett had not been there the Major 
 would have given way at once. He had not under- 
 stood when he forbade it that Marjorie's heart was 
 set upon the presentation of the address to the Lord 
 Lieutenant. It was only the fear of appearing weak 
 and vacillating before Miss Garnett which enabled 
 him to harden his heart. He left the room and went 
 into his study. He tried to persuade himself as he 
 smoked that he was acting a noble part, sacrificing 
 his own inclination to his niece's higher interests. 
 But Marjorie's wail disturbed him. 
 
 The car came to the door at eleven o'clock. Miss 
 Garnett and Marjorie appeared hatted and gloved for
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 221 
 
 church. Major Kent looked at his niece apprehen- 
 sively. He was relieved to find that she was quite 
 cheerful again, and was apparently thinking no more 
 about the Lord Lieutenant. Her behaviour while 
 they drove into Ballymoy was excellent. During the 
 service in church she was saintly. Her eyes were 
 seldom lifted from her book. She stood, sat, knelt, 
 sang, and repeated the responses with marked devo- 
 tion. The rector, who was feeling his bronchitis 
 acutely, was not in church. Meldon preached. His 
 text was taken from the Book of Proverbs : " He that 
 spareth his rod, spoileth his son." The sermon dealt 
 with the proper mingling of kindness with severity 
 in the treatment of children. The Major, who felt 
 himself compelled much against his will to listen at- 
 tentively, gathered the impression that Solomon ap- 
 proved strongly of severity towards boys of twelve 
 years old and upwards Meldon's illustrations 
 showed plainly that he had Paudeen Canavan in his 
 mind but was in favour of unlimited indulgence 
 towards small girls. The text, if Meldon's exposi- 
 tion of it was to be trusted, did not apply to girls, 
 because the word used in the original Hebrew was 
 masculine son, and not daughter. 
 
 " If," said Meldon triumphantly, " Solomon had 
 meant daughter he would have said daughter; for he 
 was a man who was careful about his words."
 
 222 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 After the sermon came the collection. It was then 
 that Marjorie lapsed for the first and only time from 
 the strict propriety of her behaviour. Her offence 
 was not very grave. She wrapped her contribution 
 up in a sheet of notepaper, which she took out of her 
 pocket, and dropped it in the form of a small parcel 
 on to the plate. Meldon, counting the money after- 
 wards, came upon it. He unwrapped it carefully, 
 and discovered that a note, plainly meant for him, 
 was written on the paper. 
 
 " Dearest J. J.," he read, " Uncle John says I am 
 not to be a fairy or to give the address to the lady. 
 I cannot spell her, but you know who I mean. 
 Please tell Uncle John I am to. I do want to so 
 much, and you know you promised. 
 
 "Your sad and affectioned, Marjorie Purvis." 
 
 Leaving the rest of the coins, like the ninety-and- 
 nine sheep in the wilderness of the vestry-table, Mel- 
 don darted through the church and was just in time 
 to catch Major Kent as he got on his car. Marjorie 
 was already seated with Miss Garnett on the other 
 side. She did not so much as turn her head when 
 Meldon shouted to the Major. She called Miss 
 Garnett's attention to the beauty of a glass 
 case, containing a black-edged card and some 
 artificial flowers, which lay on the grave nearest to 
 her.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 223 
 
 " Major," said Meldon, " come into the vestry for 
 a minute ; I want to speak to you." 
 
 The Major went reluctantly. His conscience was 
 uneasy. He remembered Marjorie's tears in the 
 morning. The sermon had hit him hard. He knew 
 that a conflict with Meldon on the subject of the ad- 
 dress to the Lord Lieutenant was inevitable, but he 
 did not want to enter on it at once. He tried to 
 cheer himself with the thought that Meldon could not 
 yet know what happened after breakfast in Ports- 
 mouth Lodge. 
 
 " Major," said Meldon, " do you know htev I spent 
 my time last night after I left you ? " 
 
 " No. I suppose you went home to bed." 
 
 " Well, I didn't. Much as I should have liked to 
 go straight to bed after the exertions of the day, I 
 didn't do it. I went into Doyle's hotel. At great 
 personal inconvenience I got hold of Doyle. I made 
 him send for that nephew of his who writes reports 
 for newspapers. I had him dragged into Doyle's pri- 
 vate room, and I spent the best part of an hour per- 
 suading him not to send an account of your ridicu- 
 lous behaviour yesterday afternoon to the press. 
 Doyle backed me up for all he was worth. He said 
 he'd get Father McCormack to speak off the altar 
 about it if anything was done to annoy you. Noth- 
 ing could have been nicer than Doyle was, and the
 
 224 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 nephew behaved well. Considering that he was sac- 
 rificing a five-pound-note, he behaved uncommonly 
 well. He promised to tear up what he had written. 
 Now, what do you say to that ? " 
 
 " I'm very much obliged to you, J. J., and I'm 
 really grateful to Doyle and his nephew." 
 
 "That's what you say," said Meldon. "But it's 
 not, I'm sorry to say, what you mean. Words are 
 cheap, Major, and anyone can say he's grateful for 
 a kindness that's been done to him. But what does 
 your gratitude amount to? No sooner is my back 
 turned than you forbid your niece to present an ad- 
 dress to the Lord Lieutenant's wife. I say nothing 
 about the way you are treating the child herself, 
 though for cold-blooded, calculated, deliberate cruelty, 
 your conduct would be hard to beat. You allow her 
 to suppose up to the last moment that she's going to 
 enjoy one of the greatest pleasures a little girl could 
 possibly have. You allow her to plan it, dream of it, 
 look forward to it, find innocent delight in anticipa- 
 tion, to have her dress tried on and her fairy wings, 
 with gold spangles on them, actually fitted to her 
 shoulders. Then out of an absolutely fiendish desire 
 to see her suffer, you dash the cup from her lips." 
 
 "I didn't think " 
 
 "No, you didn't. And that's the reason I'm not 
 dwelling on that side of the subject. If you were
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 225 
 
 capable of thinking about anybody except yourself, if 
 you were a man of any good feeling or tenderness of 
 heart, I'd say more about the pain you are giving to 
 that child. But there's no good talking that way to 
 you. I don't suppose, either, that it's any use ap- 
 pealing to your sense of common decency and grati- 
 tude. Most men would hesitate, after accepting a 
 sacrifice of five pounds from Doyle's nephew, to ruin 
 the account that young fellow has written of the pro- 
 ceedings next Tuesday. I suppose you understand 
 that if your niece does not come up to the scratch his 
 whole report will be spoiled, and he'll lose another 
 thirty shillings over it. You don't think about that, 
 and you wouldn't care if you did think. You might, 
 if you were a different kind of man, remember that 
 I rescued your niece twice once from the back of 
 a horse that might very well have killed her, and 
 once from a watery grave. I don't expect gratitude, 
 of course. But I think that you might refrain from 
 deliberately putting me into an extremely awkward 
 position. Here I am. I've promised the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant of Ireland and the Marchioness of Chesterton 
 that your niece will present an address to them. 
 They're coming here expressly, or, at all events, 
 mainly, to get that address. If it isn't presented in 
 the proper way, as they've been led to expect that it 
 will be presented, they'll naturally blame me. My
 
 226 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 prospects in life will suffer. And all because you 
 won't lend me your niece for a perfectly innocent 
 purpose, for a single half-hour next Tuesday. You 
 ought to consider, Major, that only for me you would 
 very likely now be mourning for Marjorie instead of 
 driving her home to a comfortable dinner on a car." 
 
 "If you put it that way " 
 
 "I'm not putting it that way. Don't suppose for 
 a moment that I'd waste my breath putting it in that 
 way to you. I know you too well. The way I'm 
 putting it is this : I don't believe you are altogether a 
 bad man, Major. You are devilishly cruel to chil- 
 dren. You are appallingly selfish. You are utterly 
 ungrateful to those who make sacrifices for you. 
 You don't know the meaning of the word ' friend- 
 ship ' ; but you have certain good qualities. I'll say 
 this for you: You're a consistently loyal man. I 
 don't believe you'd murder a Chief Secretary even if 
 he happened to be a Liberal. I'll give you credit for 
 a desire to stand by the King and the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant and the Local Government Board even when they 
 happen to be doing things you dislike. You probably 
 don't fully realise that in refusing to allow your niece 
 to present that address of welcome you are acting in 
 the most flagrantly disloyal manner that it is possible 
 to conceive. It wouldn't be nearly so bad if you 
 came out into the open and played 'God save Ire-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 227 
 
 land' on a concertina up and down the street while 
 the Lord Lieutenant was at lunch. That would be a 
 manly act, however misguided; but to refuse to allow 
 your niece " 
 
 " I've said twice already that I will allow her." 
 
 " I didn't hear you. I'm glad you've decided to do 
 what's right at last. If I've spoken too strongly, Ma- 
 jor though I don't think I have you'll under- 
 stand that it was for your own good. Now if you'll 
 just count the rest of that collection for me, I'll run 
 out and tell Marjorie. Shell be very happy when 
 she hears the news, and you'll enjoy the luxury of a 
 quiet conscience. Some day you'll thank me for sav- 
 ing you from committing a deed which would have 
 hung round your neck all the rest of your life like 
 an albatross." 
 
 "Like a what?" 
 
 " An albatross," said Meldon, as he sped down the 
 aisle of the church. " I can't stop to explain it now. 
 Read the ' Ancient Mariner ' when you go home, and 
 you'll find out all about it. If you haven't got a copy, 
 ask Miss Garnett to recite the passage I refer to. 
 She'll know it"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE day of the Lord Lieutenant's visit to Bally- 
 moy broke miserably. A strong wind blew 
 from the south-east and brought with it torrents of 
 rain. No one in Connacht allows rain to interfere 
 with pleasure-parties, even picnics, and so far as the 
 people of the district were responsible for it, the suc- 
 cess of the reception was not likely to be marred. 
 It was true that the triumphal arch did not look its 
 best. It was a long strip of v/hite cotton, on which 
 were printed in vivid green the words " Cead Mile 
 Failte," of which it was supposed that the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant might possibly know the meaning. The ends 
 of this banner were wound round two short sticks, 
 which were intended to keep the whole extent of the 
 cotton stretched tightly up and down, so that the in- 
 scription could be read. These sticks were attached 
 by cords to the windows of houses at the opposite 
 sides of the street ; thus forming an nrch of the kind 
 known as triumphal. Unfortunately the storm and 
 rain played havoc with the thing. First the rain 
 damped the cotton so that the letters of the inscrip- 
 tion ran into each other and became a totally illegi- 
 ble smudge of watery green. Then the wind, sport-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 229 
 
 ing with the thin fabric, twisted it round and round 
 itself until it looked like a white garment of mon- 
 strous length in process of being wrung out after a 
 washing in dirty water. But nobody was much de- 
 pressed by the fate of the triumphal arch. Mr. 
 Doyle had all along been opposed to its erection. 
 He regarded a welcome of this kind to the represent- 
 ative of a foreign Government as likely to compro- 
 mise the reputation of the town for stern National- 
 ism. He argued plausibly that an illuminated address 
 to be handed to Lady Chesterton was one thing; a 
 triumphal arch, with an inscription which might be 
 understood to apply to the Lord Lieutenant, was quite 
 another matter. The address, as he had maintained 
 all along, was simply an expression of the traditional 
 courtesy of the Irish people. The arch, which had 
 been devised and erected by a rival publican, was 
 described by Mr. Doyle as a piece of "outrageous 
 flunkeyism." He succeeded in persuading his nephew 
 to delete, on account of its reference to the arch, a 
 striking passage which occurred at the beginning of 
 the report of the day's proceedings. 
 
 "The town," so this document originally ran, 
 " was brilliantly decorated for the occasion, perhaps 
 the most striking feature in the display being a mag- 
 nificent triumphal arch, which spanned the main 
 street, and bore, in the ancient and mellifluous tongue
 
 230 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 of the Gael, an expression of welcome to the kindly 
 lady and her noble consort whose presence was that 
 day to grace Ballymoy." 
 
 When this passage was omitted, the report as actu- 
 ally supplied to the newspapers, began: 
 
 " From an early hour of the morning the country- 
 people flocked into the town. They were evidently 
 in humour for high holiday. Laughter resounded on 
 every side. Gay dresses, varying in hue from the 
 brilliant crimson of the women's petticoats to the 
 more serious grey of the men's frieze coats, added a 
 scarcely needed note of cheerfulness to the scene. 
 The number of those who arrived on horseback was 
 so great as to suggest the formation of an escort of 
 mounted cavalry, who should accompany their Ex- 
 cellencies on their tour through the streets." 
 
 This suggestion was originally Meldon's. It was 
 adopted by Mr. Doyle's nephew in his report as a 
 picturesque touch; but was not actually carried out 
 because the horses of the district were not accustomed 
 to motor-cars, and could not be trusted to behave 
 properly. 
 
 "The weather," the report went on, "though 
 broken by occasional light showers, was not of a kind 
 to interfere with the heartiness of the welcome ac- 
 corded to their Excellencies. Connacht, indeed, on 
 this occasion, may be said to have justified the words
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 231 
 
 of the poet who wrote of ' the tear and the smile in 
 her eye.' " 
 
 " It's my belief," said Father McCormack, when 
 he came on this passage of the report, "that the wel- 
 come will be wasted altogether, for the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant will never face that occasional light shower 
 which has been coming down in bucketfuls since six 
 o'clock this morning." 
 
 Doyle, who was assisting at the final revision 
 of the report, sighed heavily, and said he agreed 
 with the priest. Then Meldon burst into the 
 room. 
 
 " Doyle," he said, " have you sent the covered car- 
 riage out for the Major's niece, and told the driver 
 to call for Mrs. Gregg on his way in ? " 
 
 " I have not," said Doyle. " Sure there's time 
 enough." 
 
 " There's not time enough. She's got to have the 
 fairy dress put on her; and what with the spangles 
 and the wings and the gold star in her hair, that will 
 take some time." 
 
 "Any way, where's the use?" said Doyle. 
 " Father McCormack, here, says they'll never face 
 the weather." 
 
 " Is it the Lord Lieutenant not face the weather? " 
 
 " Him and his lady." 
 
 " My dear Father McCormack, what makes you
 
 232 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 say such a thing ? You don't you really don't un- 
 derstand the English people." 
 
 " I ought to, then," said the priest. " I was on a 
 mission in Lancashire for the first five years after I 
 left Maynooth, and I saw plenty of the English peo- 
 ple, more than ever I want to see again." 
 
 "Well, then, you've forgotten what they're like. 
 I tell you straight they're a wonderful people. Their 
 great outstanding characteristic is their devotion to 
 duty. No Englishman ever neglects his duty. 
 You'll find that in any history-book. There was 
 Nelson, for instance. You recollect the way he 
 looked at the signal the Admiral was trying to get 
 him to attend to out of his blind eye, and then said: 
 ' England expects every man to do his duty/ 
 That's the sort of people the English are. The more 
 totally useless the duty may be when it's done the 
 more determined they are to do it. Look at the way 
 they whiten their doorsteps. You must have noticed 
 that if you lived in Lancashire." 
 
 " I did," said the priest. " Many's the time I'd be 
 ashamed to walk on them." 
 
 " Well, now, is there anything in the world except 
 a devotion to duty that would make a person whiten 
 a doorstep? It's just the same with the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant. He's not a fool. His wife's not a fool. 
 We're not fools. Nobody supposes for a moment
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 233 
 
 that any child in Connacht is going to be any the bet- 
 ter of their coming here and making speeches in the 
 rain." 
 
 " Of course not," said the priest. " What use are 
 speeches ? " 
 
 " The Lord Lieutenant knows, and his wife knows, 
 just as well as you do that there isn't a child in the 
 place wants to be ameliorated, nor a man or woman 
 that would step across the road to ameliorate one if 
 it did. What brings them here, then? It's not 
 pleasure. You can't suppose it's any pleasure to 
 them to come to Ballymoy and eat the lunch Doyle 
 has waiting for them." 
 
 "The lunch is good enough," said Doyle. 
 
 " It may be. But it isn't to eat it they're coming ; 
 and if it's not that, what is it brings them here ? " 
 
 " I've wondered many a time," said Father Mc- 
 Cormack, " what does bring them. I'm here, parish 
 priest of Ballymoy, getting on for twenty years, and 
 what between Lord Lieutenants and Vice-Presidents 
 and Members of Parliament, I could reckon close on 
 thirty that have been to Ballymoy ; and I never made 
 out yet the rights of why they came." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you. It's the instinct of duty that 
 drives them. You can't understand it. No more can 
 I. No more can Mr. Doyle. We're not English. 
 We can't explain it any more than we can explain
 
 234 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 what it is that makes your red setter stand still when 
 he gets the smell of a game bird, or what it is that 
 makes a hen sit for four weeks on a lot of duck eggs. 
 You wouldn't sit on eggs. I wouldn't sit on eggs. 
 We haven't got the instinct. It's just the same with 
 an Englishman and his duty. He doesn't do it be- 
 cause he wants to. He doesn't do it because he ex- 
 pects any good to come of it. He just does it be- 
 cause it's his nature." 
 
 " That's true," said Doyle. " I've seen them coast- 
 guards taking it in turns to stand on the top of the 
 hill with a long telescope tucked under their arms, 
 and then looking at the sea out of it, maybe once in 
 every quarter of an hour, the same as if there might 
 be something coming in or going out along with the 
 tide." 
 
 " Just so," said Meldon. " Now it's the duty of 
 the Lord Lieutenant to visit places like Ballymoy. 
 Nobody knows why. It's simply a fixed idea in the 
 English mind that a Lord Lieutenant ought to visit 
 them, the same way that it's a fixed idea in the hen's 
 mind that she ought to sit on the eggs till something, 
 be the same chickens or ducks or turkeys, comes out 
 of them. Now is it likely that a shower of rain 
 would stop a Lord Lieutenant from doing his duty, 
 especially when he has a motor-car with very likely 
 some kind of a lid on it to keep him dry ? "
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 235 
 
 " Maybe now," said Doyle, " if we were to tele- 
 graph to the hotel at Cuslough where he and his lady 
 were stopping last night, they'd tell us whether or 
 not they'd started." 
 
 "You can telegraph if you like," said Meldon, 
 "but if you do you'll only waste your sixpence. 
 You may take my word for it, they've started. 
 You'd far better send that carriage out for the Ma- 
 jor's niece, as I told you." 
 
 Doyle departed. In a few minutes a large car- 
 riage of great antiquity and most curious shape was 
 driven down the street by Paddy Clancy. Shortly 
 afterwards Doyle returned to the commercial-room 
 with a telegram in his hand. 
 
 " You're right, Mr. Meldon," he said, " you're 
 right. They started off at half after ten, and we may 
 be expecting them at or about one o'clock." 
 
 " It's eleven o'clock now," said Meldon. " I'll just 
 run round to your dressmaker, Mr. Doyle, and speak 
 a few words of encouragement to her. I expect 
 she's horribly nervous, and it won't do to have her 
 breaking down at the last moment. Father McCor- 
 mack, you're coming up to the convent, I suppose? 
 You might as well hunt down the attendant 
 leprechauns. If you can raise enough umbrellas 
 to keep them dry on the way it'll be so much the 
 better. If not, wrap them up in shawls and things,
 
 236 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 but for goodness' sake don't let their clothes get 
 spoiled." 
 
 In the workroom above Mr. Doyle's shop the dress- 
 maker and her four apprentices were gathered round 
 Marjorie's robes. The milliner and her assistant, a 
 young lady who described herself as an " improver," 
 finding business slack in their own department, had 
 come to criticise and admire. One of the girls out 
 of the shop, "the young lady from behind the 
 counter," Mr. Doyle called her, had also wandered 
 up into the workroom. 
 
 " I hope," said Meldon, " that the dress for the Ma- 
 jor's niece is ready to slip on the moment she arrives, 
 and I sincerely hope it will fit." 
 
 The dressmaker seemed a little hurt at there being 
 any doubt about its fitting. Everybody else giggled 
 feebly. 
 
 " It isn't every day," said Meldon, " that you get 
 the chance of making a dress for a regular fairy 
 queen. If you've done this job well " he addressed 
 himself specially to the dressmaker " it may mean a 
 great deal for you. The Lord Lieutenant's wife is a 
 lady with a very keen eye for a smart frock. You 
 have, I'm sure, often seen her picture in the illus- 
 trated papers, and you will have noticed that she's 
 always exquisitely turned out. Now if she sees that 
 this fairy dress is up to the mark in every respect,
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 237 
 
 she'll very likely give you a job in Dublin Castle, and 
 that might lead on to almost anything." 
 
 The dressmaker bridled. The prospect was a most 
 alluring one. The four apprentices stared at her in 
 open-mouthed amazement. Greatness seemed almost 
 within her reach. 
 
 " I hope," said Meldon to the young lady from be- 
 hind the counter, " that you have the illuminated ad- 
 dress safe. It was up in your window for some days, 
 and I suppose it's in your keeping now. You have? 
 Very well, then, bring it to me. I'll take it round to 
 the hotel and leave it somewhere handy so that we 
 won't be searching high and low for it when the time 
 comes. After that, I'll go home and get my own 
 clothes changed. If I'd thought of it in time I'd 
 have got a court suit with a sword attached to it. 
 As it is, I shall wear a top hat and a frock coat, and 
 you can all come round to the hotel as soon as you've 
 finished off the Major's niece and take a look at 
 me." 
 
 Having encouraged and cheered the staff of the 
 drapery store, Meldon went into the room where the 
 Viceregal party was to lunch. He recommended the 
 waiter to refold the table-napkins in a manner which 
 he said was fashionable. He discovered that no menu 
 cards had been provided, and sent the waiter to ob- 
 tain from the cook a list of the food. This he trans-
 
 238 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 lated into French, and wrote out carefully three times 
 on the backs of visiting cards of his own. He 
 propped these up opposite the seats arranged for the 
 Lord Lieutenant, Lady Chesterton, and the private 
 secretary. Not having another visiting card he was 
 obliged to write the fourth copy on half a sheet of 
 notepaper. This he left opposite the remaining seat. 
 It was prepared for Father McCormack, who, it was 
 expected, would be invited to share the Viceregal 
 meal. 
 
 " You'll notice, John," he said to the waiter, " that 
 I've left out the second of the two puddings. The 
 reason of that is that I can't at this moment recollect 
 the French for stewed figs. But I have a dictionary 
 at home and I'll look it up. I'm just going back 
 there now to change my clothes. I'll drop in before 
 the ceremony begins and fill up the gap. It will be 
 your business to see that Father McCormack is the 
 one who sits opposite the sheet of notepaper. I'll 
 give him a hint to that effect myself. But if by any 
 chance he gets hustled into one of the other places 
 you must slip round quietly and change the notepaper 
 and the card. The great thing is to do this banquet 
 decently, and not leave the impression that we're all 
 utter savages down in Ballymoy." 
 
 At the door of the hotel he met Doyle. 
 
 "I think," he said, "that I've settled everything
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 239 
 
 for you now except the wine. You have champagne, 
 of course ? " 
 
 " I have," said Doyle. 
 
 " Three bottles will be enough," said Meldon. 
 " Lady Chesterton won't drink a whole one, and the 
 private secretary will hardly expect to get more than 
 what she leaves. You won't, of course, have brandy 
 handed round along with the champagne ? " 
 
 "Will I not?" 
 
 " No, you won't. That mixture is only drunk, so 
 far as I know, in Connacht, and I don't expect that 
 Lord Lieutenant will be used to it yet. He hasn't 
 been here long enough. Next year or the year after, 
 if he's round again, you can have it ready for him. 
 But, of course, you'll give it to him to-day if he asks 
 for it. What about the hock?" 
 
 " There's only one bottle in the town. It's what 
 there's little call for down here, and it's no more than 
 a chance that there's that one bottle itself." 
 
 " You ought to have ordered a dozen down from 
 Dublin. However, it's too late to talk about that now. 
 The best thing you can do is to tell John not to press 
 the hock on them unnecessarily; and you can give 
 Father McCormack a hint not to take it. You've 
 whisky and soda, of course?" 
 
 " I have plenty. Why wouldn't I ? " 
 
 " I think that's all. I see you're not giving them
 
 240 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 coffee. You're right there. Any concoction your 
 cook would be likely to make under that name would 
 be poisonous. And now I must be off to change my 
 clothes. I'll be back with you in the inside of half 
 an hour to marshal the leprechauns in good order 
 and put any finishing touches on the arrangements 
 which may be required."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ^ | AHE great hour arrived. At any moment the 
 A Viceregal motor-car might be expected to an- 
 nounce itself with a hoot. The minutes passed in 
 nervous excitement for the two waiting companies. 
 In the hall of the convent Father McCormack and the 
 reverend Mother stood together trying to pretend to 
 each other that they were entirely at their ease. 
 Grouped behind them, under the charge of nuns who 
 fidgeted restlessly, were the Industrial School girls, 
 such of them as were not serving as leprechauns in 
 Marjorie's train. Half a mile up the road, at a con- 
 venient corner, a cyclist scout was posted. It was 
 his duty to ride at full speed to the convent to an- 
 nounce the first appearance of the visitors. At the 
 convent gate stood another cyclist who was to carry 
 the news of the arrival down to the hotel. 
 
 There Mel don was waiting, in the coffee-room, sur- 
 rounded by leprechauns, holding Mar j one by the 
 hand. The dressmaker, the milliner, and the dress- 
 maker's four apprentices flitted to and fro among the 
 leprechauns, giving final touches to the dresses and 
 swift pats to the children's hair. Mrs. Gregg and 
 Miss Garnett, having done all they could for Mar- 
 241
 
 242 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 jorie, stood together and admired their handiwork. 
 Marjorie balanced herself first on one leg and then on 
 the other, swinging Meldon's hand up and down in 
 delighted excitement. Doyle was at the door of the 
 hotel watching for the coming of the cyclist from the 
 convent. 
 
 He appeared, riding desperately down the street. 
 Doyle rushed into the coffee-room. 
 
 " They've come ! " he said. " They've come ! " 
 
 Meldon's voice stilled the tumultuous excitement 
 which followed. 
 
 " Let everyone," he said, " keep absolutely cool. 
 Miss Garnett, Marjorie's wings must be left as they 
 are. If they are crooked, it cannot be helped now. 
 The leprechauns will please stand still. Any rushing 
 about is liable to injure their costumes. Doyle, 
 kindly use your influence with your dressmaker and 
 her assistants to prevent their agitating the lepre- 
 chauns. There is still plenty of time before us. The 
 Lord Lieutenant and Lady Chesterton cannot be here 
 for at least a quarter of an hour. They have a good 
 deal to do at the convent. They must congratulate 
 the reverend Mother on the plump condition of the 
 girls under her care. They must ask for a holiday 
 for the school. They must inspect whichever of the 
 dormitories happens to have been got ready for them 
 to see. They have to present five pounds to the nuns
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 243 
 
 to be spent on cakes and sweets for the girls. All 
 that will take time, and not until it's done can they 
 take Father McCormack into the motor-car and come 
 on here." 
 
 This speech produced a soothing effect upon the 
 audience, and Meldon looked round him with a smile 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 " At the same time," he went on, " everybody ought 
 to begin to buck up. Marjorie, take the illuminated 
 address in your two hands and stand near the door, 
 ready to proceed to the hall when I give the word. 
 One of your wings is crooked, I notice. Mrs. Gregg, 
 will you and Miss Garnett straighten it as quickly 
 and quietly as possible, and then retire. The lepre- 
 chauns will arrange themselves two and two behind 
 the Major's niece, sorting themselves out into pairs 
 according to size. They will all stop grinning at 
 once. The presentation of an illuminated address is 
 not a matter to grin about. Mrs. Gregg, you can't 
 stand beside Marjorie. It will spoil the whole effect 
 if you do. Mr. Doyle and I, as representatives of 
 the reception committee, must be immediately behind 
 the last couple of leprechauns. Everyone else will 
 stand on chairs and other convenient eminences in 
 the background, and watch the proceedings over our 
 heads. Is Paudeen Canavan outside? I think I saw 
 him among the crowd. Doyle, will you be so good
 
 244 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 as to fetch him in ? I want to speak to him for a min- 
 ute." 
 
 Paudeen, a damp figure, was led through the lines 
 of waiting fairies. 
 
 " Are you listening to me, Paudeen ? " said Meldon. 
 "Very well. Let you get yourself and a few more 
 boys, and when the motor stops at the hotel door slip 
 round the back of it so as you'll be able to see what's 
 going on. The very minute the lady kisses Miss Mar- 
 jorie you're to cheer like mad. Do you understand? 
 The rest of the crowd won't be able to see what's 
 happening on account of the motor-car being in the 
 way, but if you cheer they'll cheer too. Mind me, 
 now. If that cheer isn't what I call a proper cheer, 
 if it doesn't set the window-panes rattling all over 
 the hotel, you'll hear more about it afterwards. 
 You've got about ten minutes, from that to a quarter 
 of an hour, to organise the demonstration. You'd 
 better be smart about it. You can get Paddy Clancy, 
 Mr. Doyle's man, to help you if you like. Be off now, 
 and stop gaping at Miss Marjorie." 
 
 A fitful wavering cheer broke from the people in 
 the street while Paudeen was pushed from the room. 
 
 "It's themselves," said Doyle. 
 
 " It is not," said Meldon. " It can't be yet." 
 
 He pushed his way through the fairies and looked 
 out
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 245 
 
 " Well," he said ; " this beats all. It's the Major." 
 
 Major Kent, clad in a suit of yachting oilskins, 
 with a yellow sou'wester on his head, drove rapidly 
 down the street and pulled up with a jerk at the door 
 of the hotel. He leaped from his trap, and Jamesy 
 Deveril, who had evidently received his orders, drove 
 on at once to the hotel yard. 
 
 "We didn't expect you, Major," said Meldon. 
 " But we're delighted to see you. Be careful now as 
 you come in. If you drip over Marjorie and the 
 leprechauns you'll ruin the whole show. I thought 
 you said that nothing would induce you to put in an 
 appearance ? " 
 
 " After all your talk about loyalty on Sunday," said 
 the Major, with a grin, " I thought I'd better come. 
 Let me in somewhere till I get off these oilskins. 
 Jamesy Deveril has my hat-box in the trap. I'll be 
 ready in two minutes." 
 
 " Go into the bar, Major," said Doyle, " and leave 
 your oilskins there. I'll have the hat-box brought in 
 to you in a minute." 
 
 " When ready," said Meldon, " you will take your 
 place in the procession between me and Mr. Doyle, 
 immediately behind the leprechauns. You will hold 
 your hat in your hand as you see me do. When the 
 Marchioness kisses Marjorie you will wave your hat 
 round your head. At the same moment Paudeen
 
 246 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Canavan will raise a cheer outside. All the ladies 
 who are standing on chairs in the background" 
 Meldon here addressed himself to Mrs. Gregg, Miss 
 Garnett, the dressmaker, the milliner, the young lady 
 from behind the counter, the improver, the four ap- 
 prentices, and a housemaid who had just stolen into 
 the room " all of you will then wave your pocket- 
 handkerchiefs in the air, and express delight by mak- 
 ing cooing and gurgling sounds in your throats. 
 The leprechauns in all probability have no pocket- 
 handkerchiefs, so they will clap their hands together 
 and smile. Now does everybody quite understand 
 what they have to do ? " 
 
 " Please, J. J.," said Marjorie, " am I to kneel 
 down when I present the address?" 
 
 " Certainly not. In the first place, the floor in the 
 hall, where the presentation takes place, is very wet, 
 and you'd spoil the front of your dress. In the next 
 place, you must recollect that you're a fairy queen. 
 The other lady is only a vicereine, if she's that and 
 I'm not quite sure that she is. I never could see my- 
 self that the mere fact of being married to a viceroy 
 makes anybody a vicereine; though I notice that all 
 the newspapers give her the title. You needn't at- 
 tempt to walk backwards, either, Marjorie, though I 
 believe it's correct to walk backwards at these court 
 ceremonies. But you'd better not do it. That dress
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 247 
 
 of yours is far longer than the one you're accustomed 
 to, and you'd probably trip over it. In fact, Mar- 
 jorie, the less you walk in any direction the better. 
 It would be a frightful catastrophe if you fell." 
 
 Another burst of cheering from the crowd outside 
 turned Meldon's attention from Marjorie. 
 
 " Doyle," he said, " go and see what that is. Or, 
 wait a moment. Perhaps I'd better go myself. That 
 sounded to me rather a derisive kind of cheer, as if 
 Paudeen Canavan, or whoever started it, had hit on 
 some kind of joke. If by any possibility Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran and Mary Garry have arrived, it will be better 
 for me to deal with them." 
 
 A car stood at the hotel door. On the near side 
 of it sat the driver in a black oilskin coat and a sou'- 
 wester. On the far side was a woman wrapped up in 
 rugs and shawls. A battered leather travelling-trunk 
 was tied on the well with ropes. A single glance sat- 
 isfied Meldon that the woman was not Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran, but a stranger. He returned to the coffee- 
 room and told Doyle what he had seen. 
 
 " It's a Donard car," he said. " I've often seen the 
 driver standing about outside the station and waiting 
 for the train to come in. I know the look of him 
 well. I expect he's got a tourist who has come to 
 spend a week in your hotel. If so, you'd better tell 
 them to drive round to the yard. She must come in
 
 248 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 through the back door. We can't possibly have her 
 pushing through this crowd, and dragging that 
 wet trunk after her. And we can't have the car 
 standing at the door. The Lord Lieutenant's motor 
 may be here at any moment. Hurry up, now, 
 Doyle." 
 
 Doyle made his way rapidly through the lepre- 
 chauns. He held a short conversation with the driver 
 of the car. The crowd cheered lustily, hoping for 
 some amusing hitch in the day's proceedings. 
 
 " It's a lady," said Doyle to Meldon, a few minutes 
 later. " She wants the Major. The driver says he 
 saw Jamesy Deveril standing beside the yard gate, 
 and so he thought the Major must be here." 
 
 " Tell him to go round to the yard," said Meldon. 
 " There's no time to spare. They may be getting into 
 the motor up at the convent this minute." 
 
 Doyle went out again, and this time talked to the 
 lady herself. He spoke with great earnestness, but 
 without effect. 
 
 " She won't go," he said to Meldon. " I tried all 
 I know to persuade her; but she says she must see 
 the Major. I told her that if it was anything she had 
 against the railway company I was a magistrate my- 
 self and I'd attend on her as soon as ever I'd finished 
 giving the Lord Lieutenant his lunch. ' It's not a 
 magistrate I want,' she says, ' but Major Kent. It's
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 249 
 
 a matter of life and death,' she says, ' and I've a right 
 to see him, for I'm his sister.' " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Meldon, " it's Margaret. 
 Doyle, go and take that horse by the head and lead 
 him into the yard, and don't let the lady get off the 
 car under any pretext whatever. Listen to no ex- 
 cuses. Use force if necessary. Do anything you 
 like, but get her out of that. There are two police 
 outside, and if the worst conies to the worst have her 
 arrested. If she makes her way in here now she'll 
 utterly ruin the whole performance. If she catches 
 sight of the Major's niece we're done. Where's the 
 Major?" 
 
 Doyle, impressed by the tremendous energy of 
 Meldon's manner, ran out and seized the horse. Amid 
 a tremendous outburst of cheering, led by Paudeen 
 Canavan, he dragged horse, car, driver, and Mrs. 
 Purvis into the yard, and shut the gate behind them. 
 Meldon rushed to the hotel bar and found the Major 
 polishing his silk hat with a pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Major," he said, with fierce intensity, " your sis- 
 ter Margaret has arrived, and she's looking for you. 
 If she sees Marjorie it's all over with us. She'll 
 never allow her to present that address to the Mar- 
 chioness. It would be utterly contrary to the most 
 fundamental principles of the Parents' Union. You 
 must go out to the yard at once and capture her."
 
 250 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " My dear J. J., you don't know my sister Mar- 
 garet. If she has arrived and wants to come into the 
 hotel, I can't stop her. Nobody living could stop her. 
 It wouldn't be the least use my trying." 
 
 " I'll stop her," said Meldon. " If I have to lock 
 her up in the stable till the affair is over, I'll stop her. 
 But you'll have to manage the fairies and the recep- 
 tion generally. You're sure to make a muddle of it, 
 but that can't be helped. Doyle's out after your sis- 
 ter already. Now I have to go too, and from what 
 you say I expect it will take both of us all we can 
 do to keep her out." 
 
 Meldon ran through the back premises of the hotel 
 and out of the scullery door into the yard. He saw 
 the car standing near the stable. Mrs. Purvis was 
 disentangling herself from rugs and shawls, talking 
 angrily. Doyle stood, cowed and helpless, beside her. 
 
 " Mrs. Purvis, I believe," said Meldon. " Allow 
 me to help you with that rug. What a terrible morn- 
 ing you've had for your drive. I'm delighted to meet 
 you, and I feel it a privilege to be the first to bid you 
 welcome on your return to your old home after so 
 many years' absence in Australia. You have the ad- 
 vantage over us in the way of climate out there. 
 Your great enemy, as I understand, is not rain, but 
 drought. Here, of course, owing chiefly to the Gulf 
 Stream, there is an extraordinary humidity. But I
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 251 
 
 needn't tell you what our weather is like. You were 
 brought up to it." 
 
 " I don't know who you are," said Mrs. Purvis, 
 " but I should feel obliged if you would tell me 
 whether my brother, Major Kent, is in the hotel. 
 That men," she pointed to Doyle, " seems incapable 
 of speech." 
 
 " Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the Rev. 
 J. J. Meldon, at present curate of this parish. Your 
 brother, my respected friend, Major Kent, asked me 
 to step outside and say how very pleased he is to 
 hear of your arrival. Just at this precise moment he 
 happens to be engaged in a rather important matter. 
 He's receiving the Lord Lieutenant, and I need 
 scarcely remind you that a Lord Lieutenant isn't the 
 sort of bird you meet hopping about on every bush. 
 He's rather an important person in his way, and he 
 might get touchy if he thought your brother was not 
 showing him proper respect. That's the reason I'm 
 here to welcome you ; and if you'll be good enough to 
 step into the stable out of the rain the Major will be 
 with you in ten minutes." 
 
 " I shall certainly not do anything of the sort. 
 Why should I wait in the stable? I shall go straight 
 into the hotel." 
 
 She climbed off the car as she spoke, and splashed 
 heavily into a large pool.
 
 252 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Your brother thought," said Meldon, " that you'd 
 be interested in seeing his cob. It's in the stable at 
 this moment. It's a remarkable animal and has won: 
 two first prizes. He felt sure you'd like to see it. 
 That's the reason he suggested your going into the 
 stable. He felt sure that the cob would keep you in- 
 terested and amused while you were waiting for him." 
 
 " I've no reason at present," said Mrs. Purvis, " to 
 suppose that my brother has gone mad ; but unless he 
 has he didn't send me that message. I don't want to 
 see his cob. I want to see my daughter." 
 
 She set out determinedly towards the scullery door 
 as she spoke. 
 
 " Your daughter is perfectly well," said Meldon 
 " well and happy. She's a charming child." 
 
 " If she's well," said Mrs. Purvis, " I should like 
 to know why John sent me a telegram which brought 
 me across the Continent of Europe on what appears 
 to be a fool's errand." 
 
 Meldon might have argued about the telegram, and 
 would have given quite a plausible explanation of it 
 if he had had time ; but Mrs. Purvis was within a few 
 yards of the scullery door. He realised that in her 
 present temper she would be capable of snatching 
 Marjorie out of the very arms of Lady Chesterton. 
 There was only one thing to do. He darted past Mrs. 
 Purvis, reached the door first, passed through it,
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 253 
 
 slammed it in the lady's face, and turned the key in 
 the lock. A moment later he appeared at the scul- 
 lery-window. 
 
 " Doyle ! " he shouted, " run and lock the yard gate. 
 Put the key into your pocket, and get up into the 
 hayloft as quick as you can. Pull the ladder after 
 you, and you'll be safe." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis stood irresolute for a moment. Then 
 she walked over to the scullery window and tried to 
 open it. Meldon held fast to the sash. He stood on 
 a sink which was just inside, and addressed Mrs. 
 Purvis through a broken pane of glass. 
 
 " I may seem to you," he said politely, " to be act- 
 ing in a somewhat arbitrary manner, but I haven't 
 the least doubt that you'll thank me afterwards. 
 You'll come to see that what I am doing is for your 
 own good. You will " 
 
 " I'll have you sent to gaol for this. You have as- 
 saulted me. You will be prosecuted for it if there's 
 law to be had anywhere." 
 
 " If you'll allow me to explain," said Meldon, " you 
 will realise that I am acting in by far the best possible 
 way under the circumstances. Your daughter " 
 
 Mrs. Purvis broke a pane of glass with the handle 
 of her umbrella. 
 
 "Don't give way to excitement," said Meldon. 
 " It's not the slightest use, and, besides, you'll have
 
 254 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 to pay for all you break afterwards. You won't be 
 able to put the blame on me, because Doyle is watch- 
 ing you out of the hayloft. In any case, you couldn't 
 get in, even if you smashed all the glass. The panes 
 are too small. As I was just saying, your daugh- 
 ter " 
 
 Mrs. Purvis turned her back on Meldon and walked 
 away from him to the middle of the yard. 
 
 "Your daughter," said Meldon, raising his voice 
 so as to be sure of being heard, " is at this moment 
 under the protection of her uncle, of a lady of high 
 position and excellent character, Mrs. Gregg, and of 
 Miss Garnett, whom I engaged last week as a gov- 
 erness for her. She is surrounded by a troop of lep- 
 rechauns, all dressed in white, with green sashes, and 
 green ribbons tying up their hair. She is about to 
 present an address of welcome to the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant of Ireland and the lady whom Mr. Doyle's 
 nephew calls 'his amiable consort.'" 
 
 This announcement so far affected Mrs. Purvis 
 that she turned round and stared at Meldon. Taking 
 this as an encouraging sign, he proceeded blandly: 
 
 " You will understand that your sudden appearance 
 might unnerve the child, especially as you are not ex- 
 actly what I'd call calm even now, in spite of the wet. 
 Marjorie's not expecting to see you in the least. Her 
 emotion on catching sight of you, the natural out-
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 255 
 
 burst of her deeply affectionate nature, would be too 
 much for her. She'd very likely drop the illuminated 
 address and entirely disorganise the other fairies. 
 Now I feel sure that you'd like Marjorie to appear 
 at her very best on an occasion of this kind. As a 
 member of the Parents' Union, you naturally want 
 your child to do credit to the excellent education 
 you've given her. Therefore you won't mind waiting 
 a few minutes until this function is over." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis glared at him in silent rage. 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Meldon, " that you're getting so 
 wet. But that's not my fault. I wanted you to go 
 into the stable, but you wouldn't. Why don't you 
 put up your umbrella? It would be a great deal bet- 
 ter to use it in the regular and natural way for keep- 
 ing off rain, than to be breaking panes of glass with 
 its handle." 
 
 A loud cheer rose from the street in front of the 
 hotel. Meldon was almost certain that he taught 
 Paudeen Canavan's voice at the beginning of it. 
 
 " The Marchioness of Chesterton has kissed Mar- 
 jorie," he said. "Now aren't you pleased?" 
 
 There was another and a still louder cheer. 
 
 " I think," said Meldon, " that the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant must be kissing her too. That will be as good to 
 her as being presented at court. You ought to be 
 proud of your daughter, Mrs. Purvis. I don't sup-
 
 256 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 pose there's another girl in the whole of Australia 
 who's been kissed by a Lord Lieutenant ! " 
 
 A third cheer followed, and then a fourth. Meldon 
 was a little puzzled. 
 
 " Either," he said, " the Lord Lieutenant is kissing 
 the whole eight leprechauns which is hardly likely 
 or else the private secretary and Father McCor- 
 mack are kissing Marjorie. Perhaps, Mrs. Purvis, 
 you and I had better be going in. I don't want the 
 thing overdone. There's a large crowd outside, as 
 you can judge by the cheering. It wouldn't do if 
 they all took to kissing Marjorie. I'll just unlock 
 the scullery door and show you the way through the 
 hotel, and then we'll be able to see for ourselves what 
 is actually happening."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 MELDON opened the scullery door, and Mrs. 
 Purvis walked across the yard towards it. 
 Her gait was dignified and stately; but the impres- 
 siveness of her approach was spoiled by the appear- 
 ance of her clothes. They were wet to the point of 
 being draggled. Meldon bowed as she passed him. 
 She took absolutely no notice of his salutation. 
 
 " Allow me to show you the way," he said. " This 
 hotel is old, and bits have been added on to it from 
 time to time. The back passages are most compli- 
 cated and liable to be confusing to anyone who doesn't 
 know them intimately." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis still ignored him. She passed through 
 the kitchen without so much as a glance at the cook, 
 who was intent on the chops she was dishing for the 
 Lord Lieutenant. Outside the kitchen-door Mrs. 
 Purvis turned to the right. 
 
 " I don't wish to interfere with your freedom of 
 action in any way," said Meldon, "but that passage 
 leads to nothing except Mr. Doyle's bedroom. If 
 you want to tidy your hair or put your hat straight, 
 wouldn't it be better for you to see the housemaid? 
 I don't mean to suggest that Mr. Doyle will grudge 
 257
 
 258 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 you the use of his bedroom; but well, you can 
 
 guess that his comb isn't very often washed. I 
 shouldn't like to run it through my hair. Besides, 
 I'm sure he won't have hairpins; and you'll want 
 them, won't you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Purvis turned without a word. She set off 
 in a fresh direction. Meldon followed her. At the 
 end of the passage she tried next there was a swing- 
 door of green baize. 
 
 "That door," said Meldon, "leads into the milli- 
 nery department of the shop. I'm not offering you 
 any advice. I'm merely mentioning the fact. Per- 
 haps you want to buy a new hat, and if so you're 
 going to quite the right place. But I wouldn't run 
 into that sort of extravagance if I were you. I'll 
 explain to the Lord Lieutenant that you've had a long 
 drive, and can't be expected to be in regular court 
 dress. He'll understand at once." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis went back again to the kitchen. Still 
 ignoring Meldon, she addressed the cook. 
 
 " Will you kindly show me the way into the hotel ? " 
 she said. 
 
 But the cook was in no mood for guiding strangers. 
 The responsibility of preparing a feast for a Lord 
 Lieutenant was weighing heavily on her. It was not 
 a thing she had ever done before, and she had re- 
 ceived a good deal of advice and instruction from
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 259 
 
 Meldon in the course of the morning. Her temper 
 was seriously affected. 
 
 " Let them that brought you here bring you away 
 again," she said. 
 
 " I assure you," said Meldon, apologetically, to the 
 cook, " I'm most anxious to show the lady the way 
 into the hotel, and I'm in no way responsible for her 
 coming in here. By the way, I hope you remem- 
 bered what I said to you about the egg and bread- 
 crumbs for the chops. That's what makes them into 
 cutlets, and it's most important. No Lord Lieuten- 
 ant can be expected to sit down to an ordinary chop 
 not so long as he is a Lord Lieutenant. At home, 
 of course, he often has to, like the rest of us." 
 
 " Unless the two of you is out of this by the time 
 I have the peas dished," said the cook, " I'll fling the 
 water they were boiled in over you. Is there noth- 
 ing else you can find to do, the pair of you, only to 
 come tormenting me this day of all days in the 
 year?" 
 
 " I really think, Mrs. Purvis," said Meldon, " that 
 we'd better go. I don't say that the water the cook 
 mentions would make you any wetter than you are. 
 It couldn't. But it would be rather humiliating to 
 have it thrown at you. Try the steps just outside 
 the kitchen-door. They don't look as if they led into 
 the hotel, but they do."
 
 a6o THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 Mrs. Purvis descended three stone steps and found 
 herself in a very dark passage, floored with damp 
 flags. She paused. She suspected that Meldon was 
 leading her into some underground cellar, and she 
 had no desire to find herself locked into an oubliette 
 from which it might be very difficult to escape. 
 
 " I assure you," said Meldon, " that you're on the 
 right track now. If you give me your word of hon- 
 our not to hit me on the head with your umbrella as 
 I pass, I'll go first and lead the way." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis declined to give the required assur- 
 ance, but she ventured a little farther along the 
 passage. At the end of it was a steep flight of nar- 
 row wooden stairs leading to another baize door. 
 She opened this and found herself in the coffee-room 
 of the hotel. It was littered with the cloaks, hats, 
 and umbrellas of Marjorie's leprechauns. Mrs. Pur- 
 vis, after a glance round her, opened the door and 
 went into the hall. The Viceregal party, accompa- 
 nied by Father McCormack, had gone upstairs to 
 luncheon. The leprechauns, the dressmaker, the ap- 
 prentice, and a few members of the outside public, 
 were discussing the proceedings with great animation, 
 The Major, his oilskins over his arm, was looking on 
 while Mrs. Gregg and Miss Garnett unpinned Mar- 
 jorie's wings and draped her in shawls. 
 
 "John!" said Mrs. Purvis.
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 261 
 
 The Major started violently at the sound of her 
 voice. 
 
 " This is your sister, Major," said Meldon. " I 
 told you she was here, didn't I ? " 
 
 " How do you do, Margaret ? " said the Major. 
 " I'm very glad to see you. I hardly expected you'd 
 have been here so soon." 
 
 " John, we will go home at once and take Marjorie 
 with us. There are several things I should like to 
 have explained to me." 
 
 "Certainly," said the Major "certainly, Mar- 
 garet. Doyle has provided a covered carriage for 
 Marjorie's accommodation. I ordered it to come 
 round. I think it's at the door now. You've noth- 
 ing to do but get into it." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis took Marjorie sternly by the hand and 
 led the way to the door. She was followed by Miss 
 Garnett, who, like Agag the Amalekite in the pres- 
 ence of the prophet Samuel, " walked delicately," not 
 knowing precisely what would happen next. Mel- 
 don stood grinning at the door of the coffee-room. 
 The Major grabbed him by the lappet of his coat. 
 
 "J. J.," he said, "what have you done to Mar- 
 garet?" 
 
 " I've been most polite," he said " politer than 
 I've been to anyone for years and years. I recol- 
 lected that she was your sister, and I felt that you
 
 262 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 weren't treating her very well. She naturally ex- 
 pected that you'd have gone down to the yard to 
 shake hands with her, especially as you hadn't seen 
 her for more than twenty years." 
 
 " I don't know exactly what form your politeness 
 took; but it has evidently put Margaret into a pretty 
 bad I mean to say it has got me into an infernal 
 mess. The least you can do now is to go back to 
 Portsmouth Lodge with her and see the thing 
 through." 
 
 " Certainly," said Meldon. " I accept your invita- 
 tion with pleasure, unless the Lord Lieutenant has 
 specially requested my presence at lunch. If he has, 
 of course I must go to him. You'll understand, Ma- 
 jor, that these Viceregal invitations are really what 
 are called commands. The most horrible conse- 
 quences might ensue if I " 
 
 The Major, still holding Meldon fast by the coat, 
 towed him through the hall and out of the door. 
 Mrs. Purvis, Miss Garnett, and Marjorie were al- 
 ready seated in the carriage. 
 
 " Get in, J. J.," said the Major. 
 
 Meldon obeyed him at once, and took his seat be- 
 side Miss Garnett with his back to the horses. 
 
 "Come along, Major," he said, "there's plenty 
 of room. Marjorie will sit on her mother's 
 knee."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 263 
 
 The Major slammed the door of the carriage em- 
 phatically. 
 
 " Portsmouth Lodge," he said to the driver. 
 
 Mrs. Purvis put her head out of the window. 
 
 " John," she said, " I insist on your coming back 
 with us. I shall not " 
 
 "Drive on," said the Major. "It's all right," he 
 added as the 'carriage started. " I have my trap 
 here. I'll be after you." 
 
 Meldon stood up and winked at the Major over 
 Mrs. Purvis's shoulder. 
 
 " Don't wait lunch for me," said the Major. " I 
 may find it necessary to attend the meeting in the 
 afternoon." 
 
 Paudeen Canavan, who appeared to be enjoying 
 himself, persuaded the damp remainder of the crowd 
 to raise another cheer as the carriage passed along 
 the street. Mrs. Purvis sat back in her corner. 
 
 " If we see the Major before night," said Meldon 
 cheerfully, " I shall be surprised. Once a man ac- 
 quires a taste for Lord Lieutenants, he simply can't 
 get enough of them. That meeting he speaks of is 
 the merest excuse. He doesn't really care whether 
 the children of this town are ameliorated or not. 
 What he wants is to hang about all afternoon with 
 the Lord Lieutenant, and if possible to get Doyle or 
 Father McCormack to introduce him to the private
 
 264 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 secretary. The Major always was extraordinarily 
 loyal." 
 
 Nobody took any notice of this explanation. Mel- 
 don addressed himself particularly to Miss Garnett 
 when he next spoke. 
 
 " How did the presentation go off ? I hope every- 
 thing was done exactly as I arranged." 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Garnett. 
 
 " Did you all wave your pocket-handkerchiefs ? 
 Did the whole eight leprechauns clap their hands and 
 smile at the right moment?" 
 
 " Oh, J. J., it was lovely ! " said Marjorie. 
 
 "The Marchioness kissed you all right, I sup- 
 pose?" said Meldon. 
 
 "Yes!" said Marjorie, "and the gentleman too." 
 
 " Please be silent, Marjorie," said Mrs. Purvis. 
 
 "Obey your mother, Marjorie," said Meldon. 
 " You ought to do so even if it is unpleasant for you. 
 I'm sorry you have to, for there are several things I 
 want to ask you ; but I won't ask them. I shouldn't 
 like to lead you into temptation. I'll get Miss Gar- 
 nett to tell me the rest of what I want to know some 
 other time. I hope, Miss Garnett, that you'll be able 
 to recollect whether anybody else kissed Marjorie. I 
 have a strong suspicion that both Father McCormack 
 and the private secretary did ; though I don't think 
 they had any right to. I also want to know whether
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 265 
 
 Doyle and I were missed, and whether any inquiries 
 were made after us. As a matter of fact, Doyle was 
 up in the hayloft, and had to stay there. He 
 couldn't help himself. I was trying to make myself 
 agreeable to Mrs. Purvis. I hope Doyle will explain 
 the circumstances to his Excellency. I shouldn't like 
 to be thought wanting in proper respect." 
 
 Miss Garnett smiled, and then turned her head 
 hastily and looked out of the window. 
 
 " I can't tell you," said Meldon, addressing Mrs. 
 Purvis again, " what a pleasant time we've had since 
 Marjorie came here. She has wakened us all up. 
 We have quite a long list of festivities ahead of us 
 boating parties, picnics, dances, and a paper chase. 
 This presentation to her Excellency is only the begin- 
 ning of what I may call the Ballymoy season. I hope 
 you intend to make some stay with us. I assure you 
 you will enjoy yourself if only the weather takes up." 
 
 The carriage reached Portsmouth Lodge at last. 
 Meldon helped Miss Garnett to alight and lifted Mar- 
 jorie out. Then he offered his hand to Mrs. Purvis. 
 
 " Please stand aside," she said. 
 
 She stepped with great dignity from the carriage 
 and, ignoring Meldon, turned to the driver. 
 
 " You will wait," she said, " for half an hour, and 
 then take me back to Donard. I shall catch the night 
 mail to Dublin."
 
 266 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " But you must have something to eat first," said 
 Meldon. " I'll tell Mrs. O'Halloran to get up lunch- 
 eon at once. I daresay you'll see things in a rosier 
 sort of light when you've had a slice of cold beef. 
 I don't blame you in the least for thinking now that 
 the only thing to do is to take Marjorie away. We're 
 all pessimistic when we're hungry. After luncheon 
 I'll get as decent a one as I can out of Mrs. O'Hal- 
 loran you'll be much more inclined to stay on a bit." 
 
 " Kindly send a maid," said Mrs. Purvis to Miss 
 Garnett, "to show me my daughter's room, and to 
 help me in packing her clothes." 
 
 Miss Garnett, who seemed glad of an excuse for 
 escaping from Mrs. Purvis, went to the kitchen to 
 find Mary Garry. 
 
 " By the way," said Meldon, " if you are packing 
 Marjorie's clothes I wish you wouldn't; but if you 
 insist on doing it don't blame the Major too se- 
 verely about the tear in her blue dress. It was his 
 fault, of course; but he fully intended, acting on my 
 advice, to get her a new one exactly the same in every 
 respe'ct. And another thing I ought to mention be- 
 fore Mary Garry comes. If you take Marjorie you'll 
 have to take Miss Garnett too. You can see your- 
 self that it would never do to leave the poor girl here 
 with the Major. It would be a most equivocal posi- 
 tion for her."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 267 
 
 Mrs. Purvis crossed the room and rang the bell 
 with some violence. 
 
 " I wouldn't do that, if I were you," said Meldon. 
 " Nothing irritates Mrs. O'Halloran more. And if 
 
 once you get her back up Ah! there you are, 
 
 Mary Garry. I'm glad you've come. I was half 
 afraid we were going to have a repetition of the 
 scene there was over Miss Garnett's tea." 
 
 " Show me Miss Marjorie's room at once," said 
 Mrs. Purvis. 
 
 " One moment," said Meldon. " Was the tooth- 
 brush brought in from the yacht on Saturday? If 
 not, I'd better go and fetch it at once." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis, without waiting for Mary Garry's 
 guidance, walked upstairs. Meldon followed her 
 slowly. She entered the first room she came to, and 
 slammed the door in Meldon's face. 
 
 " That's your brother's room," he said. " You can 
 see that at a glance by the razors. But it's all right. 
 If you like to stop there I'll give Mary Garry direc- 
 tions about the packing." 
 
 Mrs. Purvis came out again and stalked down the 
 passage to the door at which Mary Garry was stand- 
 ing. She entered it, and again shut the door. 
 
 " You won't forget what I said about Miss Gar- 
 nett," said Meldon. " I don't like to be shouting 
 things of the sort out loud for Mary Garry to listen
 
 268 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 to; but if you don't mind putting your ear to the 
 keyhole for one moment I'll whisper what I want to 
 say." 
 
 He stooped down as he spoke. 
 
 "If you don't take Miss Garnett with you," he 
 
 whispered, " she'll very likely You know what I 
 
 mean. You can see for yourself that she's very at- 
 tractive. You may want that, of course. I don't 
 say it would be a bad thing for the Major. But you 
 ought to make up your mind to it, if you leave her 
 here. There's no use your thinking that I'm the 
 person. I'm not. As a matter of fact, I'm engaged 
 already. I don't press the consideration on you, but 
 for Marjorie's sake I can't help reminding you that 
 there is the little property. I don't know that you 
 can afford to neglect that. But, of course, if there 
 was to be a Mrs. Kent I needn't go into other pos- 
 sibilities. You'll think it all out for yourself while 
 you're packing. I'll just run off now and put a dab 
 of vaseline on Marjorie's bicycle to keep the rain 
 from rusting it. I'll tie it on the top of the carriage 
 for you if you're really bent on going. Good-bye." 
 
 An hour later Marjorie bade a sorrowful and af- 
 fectionate farewell to Meldon. The carriage, with 
 Miss Garnett in it as well as Mrs. Purvis and Mar- 
 jorie, drove off. Mrs. O'Halloran and Mary Garry 
 stood weeping on the doorstep of Portsmouth Lodge.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AT five o'clock Major Kent returned home. He 
 found Meldon seated before a good fire in the 
 study, smoking quietly. 
 
 "They're gone," he said, as the Major entered. 
 "Your sister, Marjorie, and Miss Garnert. Gone, 
 with all their belongings." 
 
 " I saw them," said the Major. " Margaret 
 stopped at the hotel to pick up her trunk." 
 
 " I hope you're pleased now." 
 
 " She left me to pay the car that brought her out 
 from Donard. She'll probably expect me to pay the 
 carriage that takes her back." 
 
 "You'll also," said Meldon, "have to pay Miss 
 Garnett's salary and travelling expenses, and an al- 
 lowance for maintenance for the six weeks she ought 
 to have been here. But, on the whole, you're getting 
 off cheap. You've got what you wanted, and it's 
 always worth while paying for that. And Miss Gar- 
 nett's gone without marrying you, which is more than 
 you had any real right to expect. I had rather a 
 job to get Mrs. Purvis to take Miss Garnett. She 
 didn't want to a bit, and only for the way I put it to 
 her she wouldn't have done it." 
 269
 
 270 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 "I wish," said the Major, "that she hadn't taken 
 Marjorie with her." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I'd rather she'd left Marjorie a little 
 longer." 
 
 " Well, of all the unreasonable men I ever met, 
 Major, you're the worst. You wouldn't rest content 
 until you sent your sister that ridiculous telegram. 
 You practically drive your poor little niece out of 
 the house, just as everyone except yourself had 
 learned to love her, and then you say you wish she 
 was here still." 
 
 " That telegram was a mistake. I see that now. 
 There was no real necessity for sending it." 
 
 " Why couldn't you have owned up sooner, then ? 
 If you'd told me even as late as this morning that you 
 didn't want Marjorie to go, I'd have arranged for her 
 to stay. I enjoyed having the child. I'd have been 
 delighted to keep her here and to amuse her. I let 
 her go simply because I thought you wanted to be 
 rid of her." 
 
 " You couldn't have kept her, J. J. you couldn't, 
 really. Once I sent the telegram it was too late to 
 do anything. You don't know my sister Mar- 
 garet." 
 "I do know her. I've spent the greater part of
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 271 
 
 the day making her acquaintance, and I know her 
 thoroughly. I could have kept the child, and I 
 would have kept her if I hadn't thought you were 
 dead set on getting rid of her." 
 
 "No, you couldn't," said the Major. "You'd 
 have tried, I'm sure; but once Margaret " 
 
 " My dear Major, you mustn't think that every 
 man in Ireland is afraid of your sister just because 
 you are. Have I shown any signs of funk in deal- 
 ing with her? When you hid yourself in the bar of 
 Doyle's hotel to-day, who went out and tackled her? 
 I did. And I kept her at bay in the yard by moral 
 suasion and without the use of violence, until the 
 presentation was safely over. Did I sneak out of 
 driving home in the carriage with her? You did; 
 but I sat opposite to her and chatted pleasantly the 
 whole way out. It was I who induced her to take 
 Olivia away with her, very much against her will. 
 Your sister's not an unreasonable woman at all, Ma- 
 jor. She's quite easy to get on with if you take her 
 the right way. She saw my point at once, directly 
 I drew attention to the fluffy nature of Olivia's hair. 
 Just you give me the word, and I'll go off this min- 
 ute and fetch the child back from Donard. I'll be 
 in plenty of time. The night mail doesn't start till 
 ten."
 
 272 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 
 
 " Better not," said the Major. " There'd only be 
 a row." 
 
 "There might in fact there would be a row; 
 but I'd get the child in the end." 
 
 " Better not. I daresay you could do it, but it's 
 better not. Margaret would be almost certain to 
 come back with her." 
 
 "Very well. If you don't want the child there's 
 no more to be said. I daresay she'll have a pleasant 
 enough time seeing the European capitals, once her 
 mother gets over this little outburst of temper. I 
 shouldn't be surprised if Purvis himself is quite fond 
 of the child, and will be kind to her. Anyhow, it's 
 a pleasant thing to reflect now that, thanks to me, 
 she had one really happy day while she was here. 
 There's not the least doubt that she really enjoyed 
 presenting that address to Lady Chesterton." 
 
 " I daresay she enjoyed riding the filly, too," said 
 the Major, "and going off to the Spindrift with 
 Paudeen Canavan ; but I didn't." 
 
 " She would have enjoyed those and several other 
 things," said Meldon, " if you'd given her time. But 
 you fussed her out of her life with police and coast- 
 guards and governesses." 
 
 "The fact is, J. J., that I'm not the sort of man 
 who ought to have charge of a small girl."
 
 THE MAJOR'S NIECE 273 
 
 " You are not," said Meldon. " But there's one 
 thing you may congratulate yourself on. You'd have 
 made a much worse mess of it than you have if she'd 
 been the sort of grown-up professional beauty that 
 you led us all to expect." 
 
 THE END
 
 ..^SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILIT 
 
 A 000037949 5