us some evening. Shall we say Tuesday at 7.30? I
shall not ask anyone else. Three of us will be enough for a couple of
bottles of my old port."

Sir Timothy's port was very old and remarkably good. Mr. Courtney had
tasted it once or twice before the days when summer time was thought of.
No doubt, Sir Archibald would appreciate the port.

He might afterwards take an optimistic view of life, and feel well
disposed towards Mr. Courtney. The invitation was accepted.

Sir Archibald and Mr. Courtney dressed for dinner, as gentlemen
belonging to the high official classes in Ireland should and do. They
put on shirts with stiff fronts and cuffs. With painful efforts they
drove studs through tightly sealed buttonholes. They fastened white
ties round their collars. They encased their stomachs in stiff white
waistcoats. They struggled into silk-lined, silk-faced, long-tailed
coats. They wrapped their necks in white silk scarves. They even put
high silk hats on their heads. Their overcoats were becomingly open, for
the day was warm. They took their seats in the motor. Every policeman
in the village saluted them as they passed. They sped up the long,
tree-lined avenue which led to Sir Timothy's house. They reached the
lofty doorway, over which crouched lions upheld a shield, bearing a coat
of arms.

On the lawn opposite the door Sir Timothy, his two daughters and a young
man whom Mr. Courtney recognized as the police inspector, were playing
tennis. It was a bright and agreeable scene. The sun shone pleasantly.
Sir Timothy and the police inspector were in white flannels. The girls
wore pretty cotton frocks.

Sir Archibald looked at Mr. Courtney.

"We've come the wrong day," he said, "or the wrong hour, or something."

"It _is_ Tuesday," said Mr. Courtney, "and he certainly said 7.30."

"It's infernally awkward," said Sir Archibald, glancing at his clothes.

Sir Timothy crossed the lawn, swinging his tennis racket and smiling.

"Delighted to see you," he said. "I'd have asked you to come up for a
game of tennis if I'd thought you'd have cared for it. Had an idea you'd
be busy all day, and would rather dress at your own place. Hullo, you
are dressed! A bit early, isn't it? But I'm delighted to see you."

Sir Archibald stepped slowly from the car. Men who undertake the task
of governing Ireland must expect to find themselves looking like fools
occasionally. But it is doubtful whether any turn of the political or
administrativ