oing it," he said, rubbing his
face against the cob's sleek neck.

But Clodagh came to her guest's rescue.

"Larry doesn't deserve any credit for liking the sea," she said. "His
father was a sailor. You go on to the fields, Larry," she added;
"you'll find Nance waiting there. I'll saddle Polly in a second, and be
after you with Mr. Milbanke. Run now! you're only wasting time."

Larry hesitated for a moment, then he nodded.

"All right!" he acquiesced. "Only don't be long."

Instantly he was gone, Clodagh handed her whip to Milbanke and darted
into the coach-house, reappearing with a saddle over her arm and a
bridle swinging from her shoulder.

"You are not going to saddle the horse yourself?" he exclaimed in
consternation. "Let me call one of the men. Please let me call one of
the men."

Clodagh laughed.

"There's no one to call," she said. "Burke is the only proper
man-servant we keep, and he drove into Muskeere for provisions as soon
as he brought the bay round for father. You don't think I'd let any of
the labourers touch the horses!" As she said this she laughed again
and, nodding gaily, passed into one of the stalls.

After she had disappeared Milbanke stood silent, listening with an
uncomfortable embarrassment to the soft whinnying of the horse, the
soft murmuring of Clodagh's voice, the straining and creaking of
leather that reached his ears. At last, yielding to his instincts, he
stepped forward and spoke again.

"Miss Clodagh, let me help you," he said. "I'm afraid I'm rather
useless, but you might let me try."

Again Clodagh's soft, humorous laugh answered him.

"It's done now," she said; "and anyway I've known how to saddle a horse
since I was twelve. Stand back a little, please!"

He drew back hastily, and she led out a small grey mare.

"She isn't much to look at," she explained, "but she's grand to go--and
I know she's going to win. She must win."

She kissed the animal impulsively on the soft, quivering nostril.

Together they threaded their way between the scurrying fowls and
innumerable dogs that filled the yard--Clodagh leading the mare,
Milbanke keeping close to her side.

"What is this race for?" he asked, as they passed through the arched
gateway. "A mere trial of strength?"

Clodagh's eyes widened.

"Oh no," she said; "that would be silly. There are stakes of
course--Larry's telescope against my Irish terrier. The telescope
belonged to Uncle Laurence, and is a beauty; but i