“That will be all right, Mr. Butler,” put in Billie. “If you’ll take us back to the village, we’ll go in the motor car to Squire Butler’s.”
“And we’ll gladly pay you for the time we’ve kept your vehicle,” said Elinor in tones of majestic relief.
Half an hour later they were informed by the man at the inn who had been giving the “Comet” a good dusting down, that Tom Butler was a lazy fellow who never did a lick of work except drive his old jaunting car,—an inheritance from his wife’s father,—back and forth from the station to the inn or to houses thereabouts.
“It’s his owld woman as runs the fam’ly, Miss, an’ his dowter as looks after the powltry.”
Armed with specific directions, they now sped in the “Comet” out of the inn yard, along the slovenly little street and into the country.
And, oh, the burst of hysterical laughter, long pent up, and the joy of being back in the smooth-running motor car after that jolting two-wheeled vehicle; but best of all, the supreme relief of not being related to Thomas the carter; his cousin Michael, the conductor, from Saint Loose, and his cousin Edward, keeper of a saloon, heaven knows where.
How they laughed and joked and teased Elinor, who was quite willing to be teased, you may be sure, being on the safe side now. With feelings very different from their recent emotions they finally stopped at a pretty little lodge built into a high stone wall. A barefooted girl opened the gate and up a neat gravel drive they sped. Presently they arrived at the front door of a charming old house covered with ivy, with windows opening right onto the lawn. It was not a large or pretentious dwelling, the home of Squire Butler, just a rambling, comfortable, pretty old place set in the midst of shrubbery and shade trees. Through the open casements of the drawing-room came the sweet fairy notes of a harp and a girl’s voice singing:
“Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill.”
In a moment they were ushered into that same drawing-room, and the singer, slender and graceful, with soft blue eyes and dark hair, came forward.
“Is this Kathleen?” began Elinor. “I am your cousin, Elinor Butler, from America.”