“As I can’t be of any further help to you or Miss Sarsfield,” he said, “I think I will go back and look for the hounds;” and, wishing us good-bye, he rode off.
“Well,” Willy began viciously, “you seem to find O’Neill cheerful enough, after all.”
“Indeed, I don’t, Willy,” I said, with vigour; “he was perfectly odious.”
“You didn’t look as if you thought him so a while ago, when you were both near falling off your horses with laughing. I suppose”—with sudden penetration—“that it was at me you were laughing.”
“Oh no, Willy; at least, it was not exactly you—indeed, it was only your hat.”
Even at this supreme moment the air of disreputable gaiety of Willy’s headgear was too much for me, and my voice broke into a hysterical shriek. This was the last straw. With a wrathful glance, he turned his back upon me, and stalked silently on beside Alaska. Blackthorn and I followed meekly in the rear, and in this order we soberly proceeded to Durrus.
