table mood to grant her any favour. He was much annoyed at
the governess's departure, for which he had the justice to blame Honor
alone; and he was worried with business matters.

"That tiresome agent has not sent the telegram I expected," he
announced. "I shall be obliged to go over to Cork, to consult my
solicitor. Tell Murphy to have the trap ready by two o'clock, and let
Holmes pack my bag. I shall probably be away until Friday evening."

As soon as her father had started for the station, Honor sauntered out
in the direction of the stables. It was one of her mother's bad days.
Mrs. Fitzgerald was confined to her room, therefore Honor, released
from Miss Bury's authority, felt herself her own mistress. Finding
Fergus, the groom, she ordered him to saddle Pixie, and make ready to
accompany her on a ride. Fergus was devoted to "Miss Honor", and would
never have dreamt of disputing any command she might give him; before
three o'clock, therefore, her pony was at the door, and, dressed in her
neat blue habit, she was ambling away in the direction of Ballycroghan.
It was a leisurely progress, for poor Pixie's gait was slow, in spite
of his best endeavours, and Honor loved him too well to urge him hard.

She was determined to call at the horse-dealer's, and to ascertain if
Firefly were still for sale. Perhaps, when her father returned home,
she might catch him at a favourable moment, and be able to cajole him
into changing his mind and buying the cob. Mr. O'Connor, the
horse-dealer, lived at a large farm on the way to the town, and, to
Honor's intense delight, the first object that met her eyes on
approaching the house was Firefly, feeding demurely in a paddock to the
left of the road. By an equally lucky chance Mr. O'Connor happened to
be at home, and came hurrying out at once when he saw "one of the
quality", as he expressed it, drawing bridle at his door.

"Good afternoon! I see you still have the black cob," began Honor
eagerly.

"Yes, missy," replied the horse-dealer, "and I was thinking of sending
a message to your father about him this very day. It's the good fortune
to see you here! I've had a man over from Limerick who's anxious to
take him--a tradesman who'd run him in a light cart--but I didn't close
the bargain at once. I said to my wife: 'Firefly is too good a breed to
carry out groceries. I'd rather be for selling him to the Castle. Miss
Fitzgerald took the fancy for him, and I'll not be parting with him