“You’ll let us cover the poor fellow up snug, or the tide ’ll be taking him a dance?” entreated one man with a squint and short of an arm.
“Be quick about it then,” was the answer, and the sand was shovelled in, and then trodden down by heavy boots, each bystander who wore such articles giving the grave a hearty kick, even the women left the prints of their feet on the surface; and then Mr. Sweeney having laconically disposed of both body and soul in a sentence it is unnecessary to transcribe, but which restored thorough good humour amongst the cowed and sullen assemblage,—the people straggled off, leaving the constabulary officer alone.
“It was better to let them finish their work,” he said to himself as he paced slowly by the water’s edge, looking after the retreating rabble, “or we should have had the thing tossing in and out with every tide. After all, Mr. Brady,” he went on, “if straws do show how the wind blows, I should not particularly care to stand in your shoes to-day.”
Of the scene which greeted his arrival in Kingslough, Mr. Riley wrote a vivid description to his old friend Mrs. Hartley; nothing could have pleased that lady better. She felt delighted that his first letter from Woodbrook should be one she could show Miss Moffat.
Handing it over to that young lady, she said, “Here is an Irish sketch drawn by a native. It is certainly not complimentary to your favourites. Read the letter, it will amuse you.”
But as Grace read, her face betokened anything rather than amusement; and when she finished, she folded it up and remarked,—
“I think Mr. Riley’s taste in writing that letter open to question.”
“You should try and excuse his want of appreciation, Grace; remember he has laboured under the disadvantage of living many years in another country and amongst other people.”
“It is of very little consequence whether I excuse him or not, I imagine,” replied Miss Moffat. She had not yet seen this man returned from foreign parts. Mrs. Hartley had been visited by him in London, and reported that he was much changed in every respect.
In what way this change exhibited itself, Grace did not care to inquire. That he had not come home to be at her beck and call, she perfectly understood from Mrs. Hartley’s manner of saying,—