"I'm carrying the horses to the forge, sir, to be looked after against they take the road," he said pleasantly. "An' James is up to know who'll lead the prize bull, for he'll go with no one but himself, an' he can't walk five mile. An' where will he go to? he says."
When the locality mentioned by Mr. Freyne was a very hot one, Phil said "Yes, sir," and returned, murmuring that the Germans made the Masther terrible peevish.
"I am going on to Cahercalla, Gheena; you would probably like to come."
Gheena said "No" absently. She was watching a distant figure on the edge of the cliff. It looked like the Professor.
"Then Matilda must."
"Oh, Dearest George," said Matilda weakly, "I thought of taking a little ride; but if you think I'd better—— Of course, they are upset about Lancelot."
A second figure appeared on the cliffs, someone tall and active. Gheena flung the French windows open, omitted to close them, and slipped into the wood which went down to the edge of the sea.
"Gheena gets rougher every day," said Freyne angrily—"every day, and more thoughtless."
Darby, on his stick, hobbled out and went slowly down the lawn, his eyes fixed sadly on the trees that held the girl. How quickly she had slipped out, leapt over the sunk fence and disappeared! It was good to be young and strong and active. The measure of strength which had returned to him could not content him. Always with one side which would drag, always slow and crippled. He would be better, people told him. His crushed limb would improve by degrees, but he could never know the fullness of life again. He saw Gheena come dodging across the carpet of dead leaves and peep at the fretted, still blue sea. She leant out cautiously, then came into full view, and stood as if listening. Two people were talking just below the verge of the cliff.
"Are you looking for Germans?" said Darby politely.