"What do you want to do there, my dears?"
"Oh, lots of the sort of things that men don't take any interest in," said Henrietta. "We want to furbish ourselves up a little. They say Barry's shop isn't half bad."
"Oh, ribbons and laces," said the Rector. "Well, I have no particular use for my horse this morning, and Laurence, the groom, can drive you in. Would you like to go too, Maureen, my pet? You could take Kitty with you and choose her summer hat for her."
"Oh, Uncle Pat, Kitty doesn't want a summer hat. I have just finished the third of those pretty white muslin ones, and nothing could look sweeter on her dear little head. No, I don't think I want to go; not to-day at least. Thank you all the same, Uncle Pat."
About an hour later Henrietta and Daisy were driving off in the phaeton to Kingsala. The Rector with his increased means was thinking of buying a smart little pony-trap for two ponies, which would exactly suit Maureen and Kitty. He had heard that there was the very trap and also the small ponies for sale in the auction mart in Cork, and determined to start off the following day to try and secure them. Garry could manage the ponies as well as the spirited Arab. The Rector would go round to the stables and speak to him at once on the subject. Maureen's birthday, when she would be fifteen, was drawing nigh, and he thought that a new pony trap would be a nice present for her.
He felt very happy as he paced about his neatly-kept grounds and tried as far as possible to banish the thought of the Mostyn girls from his mind. Of course he was bound to look after them, but he could not like them. In fact, they tried him inexpressibly.
Meanwhile, the said girls, in every scrap of finery they could collect, drove to the town where their mother had so often been before them. Mrs. O'Brien was very well known; the Misses Mostyn were not known at all. The little town was all alive and eager, for a regatta was going on that day, and the bay was full of beautiful yachts, and Patrick's Quay was crowded with spectators. The chemist intended to shut up shop and join the group, who watched the different races, as soon as possible. He was a young man with carroty hair and sunken chin. His name was Driscoll.
Now Driscoll was by no means pleased at the arrival of fresh customers. He didn't want either them or their money; he was all agog for the beautiful races, and hated to have his time interfered with. The Misses Mostyn were not attractive-looking girls. Daisy saw his impatience at a glance and immediately proceeded to take advantage of it. Driscoll pretended not to see her drift, but he took the measure of the young lady.
"What may ye be wanting?" he asked. "Don't ye know that this is a holiday? And I'm just on the p'int of shutting up shop."
"Oh, it won't take you a minute, Mr. Driscoll," said Daisy. "Father is the Rector of Templemore, and couldn't come himself, so he sent us. He wants us to buy some rat-poison."