ll, the poor driver has the worst of it. He must face the elements,
whatever happens. Now you, with your dear little chin so cosily hidden
from the wind and rain, and with hardly a suspicion of the blast I am
fighting, make a charming picture--really charming! Ah, you girls! you
have the best of it beyond doubt! And why not? It is the law of
nature--weak woman and strong man! You know those exquisite lines----"

"Can't that horse go faster?" said Miss Kavanagh, breaking in on this
little speech in a rather ruthless manner. "Lapped in luxury, as you
evidently believe me, I still assure you I should gladly exchange my
present condition for a good wholesome kitchen fire."

"Always practical. Your charm--one of them," says Mr. Beauclerk. But he
takes the hint, nevertheless, and presently they draw up before a small,
dingy place of shelter.

Not a man is to be seen. The village, a collection of fifty houses, when
all is told, is swept and garnished. A few geese are stalking up the
street, uttering creaking noises. Some ducks are swimming in a glad
astonishment down the muddy streams running by the edges of the
curbstones. Such a delicious wealth of filthy water has not been seen in
Falling for the past three dry months.

"The deserted village with a vengeance," says Beauclerk. He has risen in
his seat and placed his whip in the stand with a view of descending and
arousing the inhabitants of this Sleepy Hollow, when a shock head is
thrust out of the inn ("hotel," rather, as is painted on a huge sign
over the door) and being instantly withdrawn again with a muttered
"Och-a-yea," is followed by a shriek for:

"Mrs. Connolly--Mrs. Connolly, ma'am! Sure, 'tis yourself that's wanted!
Come down, I tell ye! There's ginthry at the door, an' the rain peltin'
on em like the divil. Come down, I'm tellin' ye! Or fegs they'll go on
to Paddy Sheehan's, an' thin where'll ye be? Och, murdher! Where are ye,
at all, at all? 'Tis ruined ye'll be intirely wid the stayin' of ye!"

"Arrah, hould yer whisht, y'omadhaun o' the world," says another voice,
and in a second a big, buxom, jolly, hearty-looking woman appears on the
threshold, peering a little suspiciously through the gathering gloom at
the dog cart outside. First she catches sight of the crest and coronet,
and a gleam of pleased intelligence brightens her face. Then, lifting
her eyes, she meets those of Joyce, and the sudden pleasure gives way to
actual and honest joy.

"It is Mrs.