“Divil the car there is in Clonmore this minute,” said Jimmy. “The ladies that came in by the train has the both of them took, and they’re away off with them to Pool-a-donagh, if so be that the horses can do the journey.”
“Do you mean to say that there isn’t a horse and car to be got in the place?”
“There is not. It’s the truth I’m telling you; and if you don’t believe me, go up and ask Sergeant Farrelly at the barrack.”
“Then,” said Miss Blow, “I’ll walk.”
“Is it to walk to Ballymoy? You’d never over it, and the weather as hot as it is. It’s better than twelve miles.”
“I’ll do it,” said Miss Blow.
She did. A little footsore, very tired, but still blazing with indignation, she arrived in Ballymoy at a quarter to six o’clock.
Just outside Ballymoy, close to the Clonmore road, is the ground belonging to the tennis club. There are three courts and a galvanized iron hut, known as the pavilion. On club days, when some lady gives tea to the players, there are usually twenty or thirty people on the ground. On other days only a few enthusiasts go to the club. It happened that when Miss Blow came in sight on the road there was no one at the club except Mr. Goddard and Captain Fielding, the Resident Magistrate. They were playing a vigorous game, having a final practice in preparation for the tournament which was to be held next day. Mr. Goddard was serving in the fifth game of the set when he caught sight of Miss Blow. He paused, stared at her, dropped the two balls which he held in his hand, and fled without a word into the pavilion.
Captain Fielding gaped with astonishment, looked up and down the road, saw nothing very alarming, and followed Mr. Goddard into the pavilion.
“What the devil——” he began.