curve of the street, and
emerged upon the Muskeere road. But scarcely had Burke gathered the
reins securely into his hands, scarcely had the horses settled into a
swinging trot, than the little party became suddenly aware that a check
had been placed upon their progress. There was an exclamation--from
Burke; a clatter of hoofs, as the horses were hastily pulled up; and
the barouche came to a halt.

With a movement of surprise, Clodagh turned to the open window. But on
the instant there was a scuffle of paws, the sharp, eager yap of a dog,
and something rough and warm thrust itself against her face.

"Mick!" she cried in breathless, incredulous rapture. Then she glanced
quickly over the dog's red head to the hands that had lifted him to the
carriage window.

"Larry!" she said below her breath.

Young Asshlin was standing in the middle of the road--red, shy, and
excited.

"I want you to take him, Clo," he said awkwardly, "for a--for a wedding
present."

For one instant Clodagh sat overwhelmed by the suggestion; and next her
eyes unconsciously sought Milbanke's.

"May I?" she said hesitatingly. It was her first faltering
acknowledgment that her actions were no longer quite her own.

Milbanke started.

"Oh, assuredly!" he said--"assuredly!"

And Clodagh opened the carriage door, and took Mick into her arms.

For one moment the joy of reunion submerged every other feeling; then
she raised a glowing, grateful face to her cousin.

"Larry----" she began softly.

But old Burke leant down from his seat.

"We'll be late for the thrain," he announced imperturbably.

Again Milbanke started nervously.

"Perhaps, Clodagh----" he began.

Clodagh bent her head.

"Shut the door, Larry," she said. "And--and you were a darling to think
of it."

Asshlin closed the door.

"Good-bye, Nance! Good-bye, sir! Good-bye, Clo!"

He looked bravely into the carriage; but his face was still
preternaturally red.

Clodagh turned to him impulsively.

"Larry----" she began again.

But the horses started forward; and the boy, lifting his cap, stepped
back into the roadway.

Clodagh stooped forward, waved her hand unevenly, then dropped back
into her seat.

While the horses covered a quarter of a mile, she sat without movement
or speech. But at last, lifting his adoring eyes to her face, Mick
ventured to touch her hand with a warm, reminding tongue.

The gentle appeal of the action--the hundred memories it evoked--was