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"I believe that Sally Dunkelberg is your friend," he said to me presently. "Yes, sir," I answered. "A fine slip of a girl that and a born scholar. I saw you look at her as the Persian looks at the rising sun." I blushed and Mary and her mother and the boy John looked at me and laughed. "Puer pulcherrime!" Mr. Hacket exclaimed with a kindly smile. Uncle Peabody would have called it a "stout snag."
"Ye've a perfect right to like Sally if ye've a heart to." He sang a rollicking ballad of which I remember only the refrain: A lad in his teens will never know beans if he hasn't an eye for the girls. It was a merry supper, and when it ended Mr. Hacket rose and took the green chair from the table, exclaiming: "Michael Henry, God bless you!"
I saw the shadow that fell upon her face. She was vexed and turned and ran away from me without another word and I felt a pang of regret as I went to the lonely and deserted home of the schoolmaster. I had hoped that the Senator would ask me to dinner, but the coming of the President had upset the chance of it. It was eleven o'clock. Mrs. Hacket had put a cold bite on the table for me.
I remembered that I had struck the path in my flight just before stopping to swing the flail. The man must have fallen very near it. Soon we found where he had been lying and drops of fresh blood on the stubble. "Hush," said the schoolmaster. We listened and heard a wagon rattling at a wild pace down the road toward the river. "There he goes," said Mr. Hacket.
Pollock and the schoolmaster being the only volunteers in that line. Gillian had, sorely against the grain, to play a duet with Constance Hacket. The two young ladies had met one another with freezing civility in the classroom, and to those who understood matters, the stiffness of their necks and shoulders, as they sat at the piano, spoke unutterable things.
"Don't choke him, Tom," exclaimed Hacket, who came forward, to interpose; "you'll strangle him; as Heaven's above, you will." "An' what great crime would that be?" answered the other, relaxing his awful grip of the miser. "Isn't he an' every cursed meal-monger like him a curse and a scourge to the counthry and hasn't the same counthry curses and scourges enough widhout either him or them?
I thought I should hear from her. And as she kissed Mysie, she added, 'And this is the new cousin. My dear, I am glad to see you here. Dolores thought her own dignified manner had kept off a kiss, not knowing that Miss Hacket was far too ladylike to be over-familiar, and that there was no need to put on such a forbidding look.
Then we sat down in the genial warmth while I told the story of my life in "the busy town," as they called it. What pride and attention they gave me then! Three days before they had heard of my adventure with the flail, as to which Mr. Hacket, the district attorney and myself had maintained the strictest reticence.
Orders had come from Clements that the whole right wing should be drawn in, and in obedience to them the remains of the victorious companies were called in by Hacket Pain, who moved his force by night in the direction of Rensburg.
Now Castle Hacket Hill. Three days the battle is said to have raged with varying fortunes, in the course of which the Danaan king Nuad lost his arm, a loss which was repaired, we are told, by the famous artificer Credue or Cerd, who made him a silver one, and as "Nuad of the Silver Hand" he figures conspicuously in early Irish history.
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