Jack Burroughs’ dog broke from him and made a sudden dive down the first opening. The usual clear whistle made no impression. “Jim” was off. Jack quickly followed, and to his relief saw a big Irishman patting “Jim’s” head; “Jim,” with unmistakable signs of delight, jumping up and down and rubbing against the man.
That started the strange friendship between Jack Burroughs, lawyer, sportsman, and Dennis O’Sullivan.
Dennis lived in the last house on “Grasshopper Hill.” It was a little less ramshackle, a little more independent looking than the rest of the row that faced on a small bluff above the railroad tracks, and its garden bloomed like a rose. Dennis himself was large, burly, rather red of face, but with the twinkling blue eyes and the genial courtesy of the true son of Erin.
Later Dennis brought out to the almost palatial suburban home of Jack Burroughs rare bulbs and old-fashioned flowers; Jack got Dennis to help him in making his own garden beautiful.
As the war dragged its fearful way along they, strange to say, never even mentioned it, until one day in June suddenly Jack said: “Dennis, I have written to a cousin in England to know if it’s possible for me to get a commission in the English army.”
Dennis looked up from the border he was working and demanded:
“For why and I would like to know?”
“Well, Dennis, you see, my great-grandfather was an Irish patriot, and came over here during Emmet’s rebellion; but now Ireland needs me, and I’m going.”
“From what part of the ould country was yer grandfather?”
“Oh, from near Lough Neagh.”