it was any other gentleman only yourself, Mr. O'Donovan, who asked
me the like of that I'd kick him out of the shop."

"Oh! it's all right," said Tom, "my wife will be with her the whole time
and bring her back safe."

"I'm not asking what you want her for, Mr. O'Donovan," said Farrelly,
"but if it was any other gentleman only yourself I would ask."

"I want to take her up to Dublin along with my wife," said Tom, "and
send her down by the next train. I'd explain the whole thing to you if
I had time, but I haven't. All I can tell you is that I'll most likely
lose L1,000 a year if I don't get Susie."

"Say no more, Mr. O'Donovan," said Far-relly. "If that's the way of it
you and Mrs. O'Donovan can have the loan of Susie for as long as pleases
you."

Susie changed her dress amazingly quickly. She was back in the shop in
six minutes, wearing a beautiful blue hat, a frock that was almost new,
and three strings of beads round her neck.

"Come on," said O'Donovan, "we haven't a minute to lose."

They walked together very quickly to the station.

"Susie," said Tom, "I'm going to put you into a carriage by yourself,
and when you get there you're to sit in a corner and cry. If you can't
cry----"

"I can if I like," said Susie.

"Very well, then do. Get your eyes red and your face swollen and have
tears running down your cheeks if you can manage it, and when I come for
you again you're to sob. Don't speak a word no matter what anyone says
to you, but sob like--like a motor bicycle."

"I will," said Susie.

"And if you do it well, I'll buy you the smartest blouse in London
to-morrow and bring it home to you."

When they reached the station they jumped down from the platform
and crossed the line to the train. Tom opened the door of an empty
third-class carriage and pushed Susie into it. Then he went round to the
back of the train and climbed on to the platform.

He made straight for the carriage in which the soldiers sat.

"Sergeant," he said, "will you come along with me for a minute?"

The sergeant, who was beginning to find his long vigil rather dull,
warned his men to stay where they were. Then he got out and followed Tom
O'Donovan. Tom led him to the carriage in which Susie sat. The girl had
done very well since he left her. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her
cheeks were slobbered. She held a handkerchief in her hand rolled into a
tight damp ball.

"You see that girl," said Tom.

"Yes, sir," said the ser