"Nonsense!" said Clodagh. "I won in the practice last night, but the strand was wet, and the cob is only sure on hard ground."
But nevertheless she flushed and threw a quick look of appreciation and affection at her loyal little partisan.
"What are you two chattering about?" said Asshlin, standing up from the fire and straightening his shoulders.
"Is that your notion of hospitality? To keep a stranger waiting for his breakfast? Faith, we knew better in the old days—eh, James?"
He laughed, and passed round the table.
Clodagh presided at the old-fashioned silver urn; and either her confidences of the night before or the prospect of her coming contest affected her, for she forgot the diffidence that had marked her at the dinner of the preceding evening, and talked brightly and with interest on a variety of subjects. Finally, as she handed Milbanke his second cup of tea, she touched upon the object of his visit.
"'Twas to see the ruins at Carrigmore, not us, that you came, wasn't it?" she said with a shade of humour.
He returned her glance seriously.
"Oh no," he said. "At least——"
"Ah, now you've let it out!" she cried, with a laugh. "I knew it. I said so. Didn't I, Nance? I knew no one would come here just to see us."