d had asked him if he would not
like to go to school; and afterwards what he would like to do.

He could see her delicate profile now if he closed his eyes, the olive
skin, the deep velvety eyes, the red lips. Even the country people did
not deny Lady O'Gara beauty, of a foreign sort. Though they would
never admire her as they admired Miss Mary Creagh.

Soon after Patsy had gone to school Lady O'Gara died, and a year later
Sir Shawn and Miss Mary Creagh were married. By this time Patsy had
become a favourite pupil with Mr. O'Connell, at the National Schools,
who thought that in time he might qualify for a "vit," seeing his love
for animals; but perhaps Mr. O'Connell's liking for Patsy was only
because he found in him an equal mind with his own about animals, Mr.
O'Connell's attachment to his dog, Sambo, being a cause of laughter to
most of his pupils. Patsy had a happy time with Mr. O'Connell; but the
necessary education for the veterinary profession in the matter of mere
book-learning he seemed either unable or unwilling to acquire, so he
went in time to the stables at Castle Talbot to qualify as he had
coveted for the hereditary position of stud-groom. Sir Shawn, since he
had married Miss Creagh, had taken to keeping racehorses; and Patsy
Kenny had a way with horses. He was a natural solitary as regarded his
kind. Many a pretty girl had looked Patsy's way invitingly, seeing in
him a steady, sober boy who might be trusted not to spend his wages in
drink, whose dreamy eyes and soft slow voice promised gentleness with a
woman; but Patsy never thought of the girls apparently. He was very
fond of his master, but his great devotion was for Lady O'Gara who, as
Miss Mary Creagh, had dazzled him when she came and went at Castle
Talbot, not forgetting if she met Patsy to stop and speak with him.
That devotion to Miss Mary, continued to Lady O'Gara, had perhaps
spoilt Patsy's chances of being happy after the manner of other men.
He would have said himself, perhaps, that with the horses to think of
he had no time to think about getting married. Certainly he did not
seem to find his bachelor state amiss. His little house, in the new
block of stabling, white walled, red-roofed, painted with cross beams
to its pointed gable, was kept with meticulous care. Patsy did his own
work. Lady O'Gara was right perhaps when she called him a natural
celibate.

Long, long ago old Judy Dowd and her granddaughter, Bridyeen, had left