Jamesey himself was ringing a young horse at the back. He was a fresh-faced, squarely-built fellow, unpretentious and good-humoured.
In answer to Darby's questions, he put in the lumpy youngster and put a bridle on the dun horse, pulling him out.
"Look at him! An', in God's name, sir, is it likely he'd ever bate that great stridin' horse again?" he said, grinning. "They are schooling That's the Boy now, an' without a crowd likely he wouldn't fall. An' why would I be out to be a laffin' sthock to please Masther Dan Rooney?"
Darby explained further in low tones.
James Rourke's face fell a little. He replied that he was really attached to Jennie once, and that all was going well until the war and the buying of remounts.
"An' then ye see me bit comes gradual, bein' honest airnin's; but Dan Rooney med a rich man of himself sellin' misfortunes to the soldiers—buyin' here an' there, he havin' a friend in the barracks. Well, before Hivin, Mr. Darby, one blind as a sthone, an' one a runaway that no man could manage, but he drugged him carryin' him in; an' one with staggers, an' a kicker that it never let ye up, an' a craythur with spavins. I couldn't be goin' to say me prayers thinkin' of some poor felly wantin' to make a boult with Slattery's grey kicker to try to get on; but Rooney bought the dhregs of the counthry-side, an' drew out more than ye'd believe, and now he has Jennie's father tormented with the show of money. A new side-car no less, with green cushions, an' silver spoons to stir tay with—he bought thim above at an auction—an' two yelly an' red china vases for the parlour table. He has the ould man mismerized, while poor Janey——"
Just then Jane O'Dea herself, on her greatly galled black horse, rode shyly into the yard, and seeing Darby there, asked behind hot blushes for the lend of a bridle, hers being unsteady. She had really come to see the cup.
With a great many protests she got down, folding a modestly unsafe habit skirt about her gaitered ankles, and was welcomed by Jamesey's mother.
Darby knew now that tea, eggs and blackberry jam were things he could not escape from. He admired the silver cup which he had purchased, and grinned as he looked—the reflection of Jamesey silently kissing Miss O'Dea being clearly mirrored in the polished surface. Later on, when the room had lost its earthly smile and grown tropical in temperature, he removed the young people to the yard, where Jane, growing truthful in her sadness, said her Dada was set upon Dan Rooney, had been shaken by the beating of the big horse and the unpleasant loss of five shillings, but now inclined, bribed by libations of whisky, to Rooney again.
"Danny sayin' he'll be aisy on me fortin'," she said tearfully, "an' not on this horse even that is me own; an' he swearin' that if Jamesey here does not run off the race, he is a coward and had no right to win; an', agen, that the raison is that Jamesey has not twinty pound to lay down ready money."