haunted than ever.

But on this occasion Boyd Connoway was on his return, when he met the
exiled Ephraim. His meditations on his own probable fate have led the
historian into a sketch of the Connoway establishment, which, indeed,
had to come in somewhere.

For once Boyd wasted no time. With his wife waiting for him it was well
to know the worst and get it over. He opened the door quickly, and
intruding his hat on the end of his walking stick, awaited results. It
was only for a moment, of course, but Boyd Connoway felt satisfied. His
Bridget was not waiting for him behind the door with the potato-beetle
as she did on days of great irritation. His heart rose--his courage
returned. Was he not a free man, a house-holder? Had he not taken a
distinguished part in a gallant action? Bridget must understand this.
Bridget should understand this. Boyd Connoway would be respected in his
own house!

Nevertheless he entered hastily, sidling like a dog which expects a
kick. He avoided the dusky places instinctively--the door of the "ben"
room was shut, so Bridget could not be lying in wait there. Was it in
the little closet behind the kitchen that the danger lurked? The
children were in bed, save the two youngest, all quiet, all watching
with the large, dreamy blue (Connoway) eyes, or the small, very bright
ones (Bridget's) what his fate would be.

He glanced quaintly, with an interrogative lift of his eyebrows, at the
bed to the left. Jerry of the twinkling sloe-eyes answered with a quick
upturn of the thumb in the direction of the spare chamber.

Boyd Connoway frowned portentously at his eldest son. The youth shook
his head. The sign was well understood, especially when helped out with
a grin, broad as all County Donegal 'twixt Killibegs and Innishowen
Light.

The "Misthress" was in a good temper. Reassured, on his own account, but
inwardly no little alarmed for his wife's health in these unusual
circumstances, Boyd began to take off his boots with the idea of
gliding safely into bed and pretending to be asleep before the wind had
time to change.

But Jerry's mouth was very evidently forming some words, which were
meant to inform his father as to particulars. These, though
unintelligible individually, being taken together and punctuated with
jerks in the direction of the shut door of "doon-the-hoose," constituted
a warning which Boyd Connoway could not afford to neglect.

He went forward to the left hand bed, cocked his ea