The Linton party was discovered by the well on the lough shore, where Wally was scratching the nose of the patient donkey and talking to him, as Norah said, as man to man. He had his back to the path down from the garden, and did not hear Sir John’s approach.
“If you’d come back to Australia with us, acushla machree,” he said, “I’d guarantee you the best of grass and you wouldn’t have any water to draw at, all.” The ass drooped his head lower, and appeared, not at all impressed by this dazzling future. “And Murty would love you, and Norah would ride you after cattle.” (“I would not!” from Norah.) “And you could tell the horses about Ireland, and we’d tie green ribbons round your neck on St. Patrick’s Day, and let you wave a green flag with a harp on it in your pearl-pale hand. Oh, lovely ass——!”
“Were you speaking to me?” asked Sir John, politely, near his ear; and Wally jumped, and joined in the laugh against himself.
“We’re twin-souls, this patient person and myself,” he explained. “I’ve found it out, and I’m trying to make the ass see it. Never mind, old chap; we’ll continue this profitable conversation when we are alone; unfeeling listeners only make you bashful.” He produced a carrot from his pocket, and the ass ate it, despondently.
“I’m awfully sorry to have interrupted your heart-to-heart talk; but the fact is, Mr. Linton, I’m simply bursting with an idea, and I had to hurry over and put it before you.” Sir John spoke eagerly, turning to Norah with a laugh. “Is it a good moment to approach him, Norah? I want him to promise to do something.”
“He ate a noble breakfast,” said Norah, gravely. “And he’s nearly finished his pipe. I should think the moment’s favourable. Anyway, it will have to be now, because I simply can’t wait to hear what it is!”
“You see, we know your ideas, O’Neill,” Mr. Linton said, laughing. “They generally combine a great deal of trouble for yourself with something quite new in the way of entertainment for us. This must be particularly outrageous, as you want me to promise beforehand. I think you had better make a clean breast of it.”
“Well, it’s this,” Sir John answered. “The weather is glorious, and the glass is high; it’s useless weather for fishing, and I think you have explored this neighbourhood pretty thoroughly. The motor holds six quite easily. What do you say to a trip north—a little tour, to last about a week?”
Subdued gasps came from Norah, Jim, and Wally. Mr. Linton laughed outright.
“What did I tell you?” he demanded.