'O ho, Master Tim!' I thought; 'are we to hear news of you this Shrove-tide?'
As I came forward, the girls fell back, Tim hastening on to meet me. He looked shy and sheepish enough as he advanced; and the pretty lass, whom I at once recognised as Mary Dogherty, the acknowledged belle of the barony, hung her shapely head in blushing confusion as she passed me by.
Tim was all business and stolidity once the girls were out of sight. He had lodged money for me in the county bank; settled my own and mother's accounts with butcher, baker, and grocer; transacted all our various businesses with care and correctness; and having given up his accounts into my hands, he hurried on, whilst I continued my walk. Twilight was falling when I returned home; but although more than an hour had elapsed since Tim had preceded me on the road, he was just entering the gate as I turned from the sea-road for the same purpose. I made mother smile that evening when I told her of my encounter.
'But,' she said, 'poor little Mary has no fortune. Tim will look for one with any girl he marries.'
A few days afterwards Tim took me into his confidence. We were making our winter arrangements in the green-house, putting away summer plants whose flowering days were done, and filling up gaps in our shelves with bright chrysanthemums and other winter-blooming plants. An hour sufficed to weary mother at this work, so Tim and I were left alone amongst the flowers. For some time he worked away in silence, but I could easily see he was longing to speak, and so I determined to give him an opportunity; but he forestalled me.
''Twas a fine day the day I was in Derry, Mrs Grace,' he said, as he passed me carrying a huge coronella from one end of the greenhouse to the other.
'It was indeed, Tim. Had you many people on board the steamer?' I replied.
'No, ma'am; not to say very many. Them officer-gentlemen from the Fort.'
'Had you any of the people from about here?' I asked.
'Hugh Dogherty and his sister, and Susie Connor, ma'am.'