“Do,” she replied. “I will wait for you here.” Haves hurried on.
Jack was in the guest’s room. The young Irishman had selected that window, as it commanded the little door against which the brunt of the attack had hitherto been directed. Every pane was shattered, and walls and ceiling showed the effect of the volley that had been directed against him, but the young fellow stood his ground uninjured. “Don’t mind me,” he said, in answer to Harold’s inquiry. “I’m all right, and can hold this fort til morning if they don’t get ladders. I fancy I’ve sickened them of trying that door below.”
Harold hastily grasped his revolver and went His idea was to stand in the passage near the smoking-room, and defend the place should the door give way; for he did not believe that timber had ever been grown to withstand such blows.
Mrs. Connolly put her head out of the nursery door as he passed. Her husband had told her of the position of affairs.
“Is that you, Mr. Hayes?” she whispered. “Is Jack hurt?”
“Jack is quite safe,” answered the young American. “Are the children very much frightened?”
“Not as long as I am with them,” the old lady answered. “And Dick—what of him?”
“Dick is all right too,” replied Harold. He could not tell the poor woman that her boy was out in the open country without a wall between him and the ruffians.
Mrs. Connolly drew back into the nursery to take the post assigned her—assuredly not the easiest on that terrible night—to listen to the doubtful sounds from without, and to support, by her own constancy, the courage of her children.
Harold found Miss Connolly in the hall where he had left her.