“But you didn’t take him away from his mother’s funeral?”
“Oh, I did it according to law, you know. I got Bingham to give me a warrant first, before I let the policeman lay a hand on him.”
“Now, General, you’ve really made no breakfast at all,” said the hospitable hostess: “do let Guss give you a hot cup of coffee.”
“Not a drop more, Mrs O’Kelly. I’ve done more than well; but, if you’ll allow me, I’ll just take a crust of bread in my pocket.”
“And what would you do that for?—you’ll be coming back to lunch, you know.”
“Is it lunch, Mrs O’Kelly, pray don’t think of troubling yourself to have lunch on the table. Maybe we’ll be a deal nearer Creamstown than Kelly’s Court at lunch time. But it’s quite time we were off. As for Bingham Blake, from the look of him, he’s going to stay here with your daughter Augusta all the morning.”
“I believe then he’d much sooner be with the dogs, General, than losing his time with her.”
“Are you going to move at all, Ballindine,” said the impatient old sportsman. “Do you know what time it is?—it’ll be twelve o’clock before you have the dogs in the cover.”
“Very good time, too, General: men must eat, you know, and the fox won’t stir till we move him. But come, gentlemen, you seem to be dropping your knives and forks. Suppose we get into our saddles?”
And again the red-coats sallied out. Bingham gave Guss a tender squeeze, which she all but returned, as she bade him take care and not go and kill himself. Peter Dillon stayed to have a few last words with Sophy, and to impress upon her his sister Nora’s message, that she and her sister were to be sure to come over on Friday to Ballyhaunis, and spend the night there.