her life. She involuntarily returned the pressure of
the clinging fingers, as she drew her sister through the small gate of
the station. She was glad to think that there was the drive home, the
moments of arrival and of unpacking, before any mention of personal
matters could break in upon the present calm.

Outside the station, Nance saw the two dogs for the first time, and
insisted upon making friends with them before entering the trap.

"Did you miss Mick dreadfully, when you sent him back to Orristown?"
she asked, when at last she took her seat.

"Dreadfully," Clodagh answered, taking the reins from the groom. "But I
didn't know what to do with him when I left the villa. You see, I had
no real plans."

"No; no, of course not. But you'll get him back soon?"

"Yes; I want to." Clodagh gathered up the reins, and the pony started
forward at a swift trot. "But, do you know, Nance, I have thought of
going to Orristown in a month or so. Would you like to come to
Ireland?"

"Like to? Oh, Clo, I have dreamt and dreamt of our being at Orristown
together--just you and me. Can you picture it? Wearing our oldest
clothes--riding and walking and sailing all day long; and making Hannah
cook us the most heavenly cakes for tea!"

She clasped her hands rapturously, regardless of her new white gloves.

Clodagh laughed softly and affectionately.

"Oh, you child!" she said, almost enviously.

How sweet and pretty and unaffected she was--this little sister who had
suddenly stepped back into her life! An overwhelmingly tender feeling
of protectiveness welled up within her--a sudden deep longing to
shelter and guard her, to hedge her round with all that is sacred and
fine.

"Nance!" she said impulsively, "have you ever thought that I behaved
badly to you--behaved unfairly in any way?"

"Unfairly?"

"Yes."

Nance laughed.

"You're dreaming, Clo! How could _you_ behave unfairly?"

"Suppose some one were to tell you that I had?"

"I shouldn't believe, that's all."

"If I were to tell you?" Clodagh's fingers tightened on the reins.

"If you were to tell me that," Nance said, very slowly, "I think it
would spoil everything in the world. I believe so--so dreadfully in
you. But why talk about it, when it's nonsense?" She shook off the
momentary shadow that had fallen between them. "I hate 'ifs,' unless
they're very happy ones."

So Clodagh struggled no more with her conscience during the drive along
the shady Buckinghamsh