THE MEET OF THE HOUNDS 115 



scoundrels ready to do him an injury, and Avith 

 Lewis only waiting to put out his hand and seize 

 the horse, he was, it must be admitted, in a pretty 

 bad way to the attainment of his desires. 



But he had a friend, and as long as a man has 

 a friend, however humble, he is not altogether in 

 the hands of Fate. The girl sitting by the fire, 

 knitting a red petticoat for old Mrs Moriarty, had 

 been exercising her busy mind for the past few 

 days on the seeming hopelessness of the problem 

 presented to her in French and his affairs. She 

 had inherited a good deal of her father's business 

 sharpness ; she was not the niece of Simon Gretr}^ 

 for nothing, and a way out of the difficulty had 

 presented itseK before her; at least, she fancied 

 it was a way. 



At nine o'clock, after a look round the stables, 

 Mr French came in, and, sitting down in the arm- 

 chair opposite the girl, opened the Irish Times 

 and began to read it, listlessly skimming the 

 columns without finding anything of interest, 

 moving restlessly in his chair, fighting his pipe and 

 letting it go out again. Miss Grimshaw, without 

 pausing in her rapid knitting or dropping a stitch, 

 watched him. 



Then she said, " Do you know, I've been think- 

 ing." 



" What have you been thinking? " 



" That I've found a way out of your difficulty 

 about Garry owen." 



" And what's that? " asked French, who, since 



