MR MEAD 123 



what are you takin' yourself to be, or what ails you 

 at all, at all? " 



The car stopped at 32 Leeson Street. Mr 

 French descended, gave the jarvey a shilUng for his 

 fare and sixpence for a drink, and knocked at the 

 hall door. 



Mr Mead was in, and the old butler who opened 

 the door showed the visitor straight into the 

 library, a comfortable, old-fashioned room, where 

 before a bright fire Mr Mead, a small, bright-eyed, 

 apple-cheeked, youthful-looking person of eighty 

 or so, was seated in an arm-chair, reading Jorrocks' 

 Jaunts and Jollities. 



" Why, there you are," cried Mead, jumping up. 



" x4nd there you are," said ]Mr French, clasping 

 the old fellow's hand. " Why, it's younger you're 

 growing every time I see you. Did you get my 

 wire? Oh, you did, did you? Two o'clock! 

 The scoundrels ! I sent it off from the Shelbourne 

 at twelve. No matter. And how's the family? " 



" All right," rephed Mead, putting Jorrocks on 

 the mantelshelf and ringing the bell. " Billy 

 married last winter. You remember I wrote to 

 you? And Kate's engaged. James, a bottle of 

 the blue seal port. And what's the news? " 



" News," said French, with a short laugh. 

 " What news do you expect from the west of 

 Ireland except news of men being plundered and 

 cattle maimed? News! I'm leaving the place, 

 and that's why I wanted to see you. See here. 

 Mead—' 



