Mike turned to see the speaker, and, in a moment, every trace of anger left his face, and he stood like a blushing schoolboy.
At the same time a dark-haired, rosy-cheeked girl, of nineteen or twenty, clad in a dainty white sailor dress and cap came forward, holding out her hand.
Mike recovered himself, clasped her hand, saying: “I thank you, Miss—.”
“Edith O’Neill,” added the girl.
“I am glad to meet you, Miss O’Neill,” said Mike, and I never saw him look more manly.
The crowd burst into applause, and all was good cheer again. That was the first meeting of Mike and Miss O’Neill, and it was fraught with more meaning than any of us thought at the time. I found out later in the day that Miss O’Neill was a descendant of the famous Irish O’Neill family. Her father was a wealthy Dublin lawyer, and she and her parents were taking a short holiday at the Causeway.
After seeing that the aeroplane was carefully stored away in a corner of the hotel yard, Mike and I retired to our room until lunch. Mike was in splendid humor, and he had every reason to be. Our aeroplane trip was a success. We had conquered the Irish air. An Irish heiress is still more difficult to conquer, but it is wonderful what one can do in the Irish atmosphere.
CHAPTER X
OUR REST ON THE ANTRIM COAST
