er and set to work to draft
a note to the Prime Minister on the needs and ideas of Irish Labour.
He became deeply interested in his work and did not notice the passing
time.

He was aroused by the appearance of Miss Molly Dennison at the door of
his carriage. Her hair, which was blown about her face, was exceedingly
wet. The water dripped from her skirt and sleeves of her jacket. Her
complexion was as radiant and her smile as brilliant as ever.

"Hullo, Jimmy," she said. "What a frowst I Fancy sitting in that poky
little carriage with both windows shut. Get up and put away your silly
old papers. If you come along at once we'll just be in time for dinner."

"How did you get here," said Sir James. "I never thought--. In this
weather--. How _did_ you get here?"

"On my bike, of course," said Molly. "Did a regular sprint. Wind behind
me. Going like blazes. I'd have done it in forty minutes, only Michael
ran into a sheep and I had to wait for him."

Sir James was aware that the engine driver, grinning broadly, was on the
step of the carriage behind Molly.

"I lent Michael Dad's old bike," said Molly, "and barring the accident
with the sheep, he came along very well."

"What I'm thinking," said the driver, "is that you'll never be able to
fetch back against the wind that does be in it. I wouldn't say but
you might do it, miss; but the gentleman wouldn't be fit. He's not
accustomed to the like."

"We're not going to ride back," said Molly. "You're going to take us
back on the engine, with the two bikes in the tender, on top of the
coal."

"I can't do it, miss," said the driver. "I declare to God I'd be afraid
of my life to do it. Didn't I tell you I was out on strike?"

"We oughtn't to ask him," said Sir James. "Surely, Molly, you must
understand that. It would be an act of gross disloyalty on his part,
disloyalty to his union, to the cause of labour. And any effort we make
to persuade him---- My dear Molly, the right of collective bargaining
which lies at the root of all strikes----"

Molly ignored Sir James and turned to the engine driver.

"Just you wait here five minutes," she said, "till I get someone who
knows how to talk to you."

She jumped out of the carriage and ran down the railway embankment. Sir
James and the engine driver watched her anxiously. "I wouldn't wonder,"
said Michael, "but it might be my wife she's after."

He was quite right. Five minutes later, Molly and the engine driver's
wife wer