Molly was in a tearing hurry at that moment. One of her dogs had strayed, and she was beating the town to find him; but she paused to listen to his tale.
"Going to the meeting! Is it to speak?" she asked.
"No," he replied contemptuously, "to report what the beggars say."
"Just to write down the words of a lot of windbags. That's nothing! If I were Ebenezer Brown, you would be in Mr. Cairns' place. But, good luck to you, Desmond. I will set all the old women praying for you. Some day you will be owning a paper yourself, if I can help you."
"Thank you, Molly," he cried.
The girl cast a wistful glance after him as he left her, for no one admired Desmond O'Connor more than she. But the vision of a black dog vanishing around a distant corner caused her to start in a hurried pursuit. Round the corner she ran, straight into the arms of Constable McSherry, who was coming sedately along the footpath in an opposite direction to her own.
"What would my wife say if she saw this?" he asked, as she cannoned into him; "a young lady running into my arms?"
"Don't be talking nonsense," she replied, laughingly. "Did you see a dog?"
"It's nothing but dogs," he answered. "Which was the one you were after?"