The Colonel ate and talked untiringly. He was delighted with everything, and charmed with himself for his good luck in chancing upon such agreeable people. He liked the scenery, the village, the beetroot salad, the bridge, the pickled oysters, the evergreen oaks before the door. He was not astonished Conyers should linger on such a spot; and then it suddenly occurred to him to ask when he had left the village, and how.
The doctor could give no information on the point, and while he was surmising one thing and guessing another, M'Cormick whispered in the Colonel's ear, “Maybe it's a delicate point. How do you know what went on with—” And a significant nod towards Polly finished the remark.
“I wish I heard what Major M'Cormick has just said,” said Polly.
“And it is exactly what I cannot repeat to you.”
“I suspected as much. So that my only request will be that you never remember it.”
“Isn't she sharp!—sharp as a needle!” chimed in the Major.
Checking, and not without some effort, a smart reprimand on the last speaker, the Colonel looked hastily at his watch, and arose from table.
“Past three o'clock, and to be in Kilkenny by six.”
“Do you want a car? There's one of Rice's men now in the village; shall I get him for you?”
“Would you really do me the kindness?” While the Major bustled off on his errand, the Colonel withdrew the doctor inside the recess of a window. “I had a word I wished to say to you in private, Dr. Dill; but it must really be in private,—you understand me?”