"It gave me a shock. A horrid, stuffed thing. I shall not be able to
look at Eileen again without seeing that. Why does she want to make
her dresses? Can't your maid do it? Industry in Eileen is quite a new
thing. Not that she's half as good a companion on the bog as you are,
darling. I've always had to carry her over the pools. She said she
couldn't jump."

Lady O'Gara's face at this frankness was a study.

"She's so helpless. Not like a country girl, at all. You remember
that day with the bull. She left Stella to be gored by the bull and
expected to be admired for it."

There was certainly a change in Terry's attitude towards Eileen. Lady
O'Gara sighed, because of what she knew was in her husband's mind
rather than for any disappointment in herself. Eileen was not her
ideal wife for Terry.

"Eileen will go with you all right," she said. They were standing in
front of the house on the gravel-sweep. "I've just told her she was
injuring her complexion by staying indoors. She has gone to put on her
hat. I did not like to tell her that Margaret McKeon lamented to me
that Eileen was cutting out that beautiful Foxford tweed so badly.
We'll go and rout out Stella. She has not been over here for five
days."

Terry's face lit up.

"I don't know why Stella's out with me," he said. "She is always
hiding behind your skirts or Mrs. Comerford's when I am about and want
to talk to her."

His mother looked at him, with the yearning tenderness of the woman who
would give all the world to her beloved man if she only might.

"You like Stella?"

"Yes: she's a little darling. Don't you?"

"I am very fond of Stella. Perhaps ... she thinks ... You like Eileen
very much?"

After all, if her boy wanted Stella, why should even his father's
preferences prevail? She had surprised a glance in Stella's eyes when
they rested on Terry for a brief moment before they quickly veiled
themselves. The child had something Southern in her. So, for the
matter of that, had Terry. She was fond of Eileen, but, simple as she
was, she had not had Eileen with her pretty constantly for many years
without being aware of a certain shallowness in the girl. The blood
under the fair skin ran thinly, coldly.

His face lit up with such a light that she was alarmed at what she had
done. What would Shawn say if he knew? But, after all, Shawn had
married where he loved. Why should not the boy have the same felicity?
Stella had b