LARRY FLOOD. 167 



" ' How far then is it to Crowmore ? ' she asked. 



" ' Well, it's a matter of in or about six mile.' 



" ' And how am I to get there ? ' 



" ' Faix, I don't rightly know, unless Larry Flood 

 gives you a lift on the mail.' 



" ' And when do you think Larry Flood will be 

 here ? ' inquired the young stranger. 



" ' Troth, an' it would be hard to say ! it entirely 

 depends on the humour he's in. He calls for the 

 letters,' pointing to a bag in the doorway, 'just as 

 he takes the notion ; sometimes he is here at five 

 o'clock, and betimes I've known him call at one 

 in the morninof.' 



" A sudden interruption made him turn his head, 

 and he added, with a triumphant slap of his corduroy 



leer • 



" ' Begorra, you are in luck, miss, for here he is 



now ! ' 



" As he spoke, a red outside car, drawn by a 

 wild-looking chestnut, wearing a white canvas collar, 

 and little or no harness, came tearing into the station 

 amidst a cloud of dust. The driver was a wiry little 

 man, with twinkling eyes that looked as if they were 

 never closed, a protruding under-lip, and an ex- 

 travagantly wide mouth. He was dressed in a good 

 suit of dark tweed, and wore a green tie and a white 

 caubeen. 



"'What's this ye have with ye, the .day, Larry?' 

 demanded one of the idlers, as he narrowly examined 

 the animal between the shafts. ' May I never,' he 

 added, recoiling a step backwards and speaking in 

 an awe-struck tone, ' if it isn't Finnigan's mare ! ' 



" ' The divil a less ! ' rejoined Larry complacently. 

 ' Finnigan could get no good of her, and the old 



