"I want a kiss," said Effie.
The next moment she was in her father's arms, and he was kissing her as though she had brought him a fortune, instead of ruin.
The next moment she was gone, seeking her warm bed rapidly, and as the sound of her pattering feet died away the girl turned to French, her eyes filled with tears.
"We aren't done," said she, speaking rapidly and with vehemence. "We'll get the better of them yet. We'll do something, and we have time to prepare our defence against them, for the letter won't reach Cloyne till the day after to-morrow."
"If they manage to do me in this," said French, "I'll shoot Garryowen with my own hand, and I'll hang for Dick Giveen, by heavens!"
"Hush! There is no use in giving way to anger. We must have a council of war, and collect all our forces. I say——"
"Yes?"
"Mr. Dashwood——"
The girl paused for a moment, then, as if the desperate nature of the situation made everything else of small account, she went on:
"Mr. Dashwood behaved very foolishly the other day, and ran away off to town. We must send him a wire to-morrow morning to come at once. I'll send it. And look here. You know how grumpy I was after tea. Well, Effie, in that fit of lying, told me you had given her a letter to post which she was to hide from me. Of course, I ought to have known you wouldn't do anything of the sort. I apologise. Goodnight."