The Kellys and the O'Kellys Part 38

"But you didn't take him away from his mother's funeral?"

"Oh, I did it according to law, you know. I got Bingham to give me a warrant first, before I let the policeman lay a hand on him."

"Now, General, you've really made no breakfast at all," said the hospitable hostess: "do let Guss give you a hot cup of coffee."

"Not a drop more, Mrs O'Kelly. I've done more than well; but, if you'll allow me, I'll just take a crust of bread in my pocket."

"And what would you do that for?--you'll be coming back to lunch, you know."

"Is it lunch, Mrs O'Kelly, pray don't think of troubling yourself to have lunch on the table. Maybe we'll be a deal nearer Creamstown than Kelly's Court at lunch time. But it's quite time we were off. As for Bingham Blake, from the look of him, he's going to stay here with your daughter Augusta all the morning."

"I believe then he'd much sooner be with the dogs, General, than losing his time with her."

"Are you going to move at all, Ballindine," said the impatient old sportsman. "Do you know what time it is?--it'll be twelve o'clock before you have the dogs in the cover."

"Very good time, too, General: men must eat, you know, and the fox won't stir till we move him. But come, gentlemen, you seem to be dropping your knives and forks. Suppose we get into our saddles?"

And again the red-coats sallied out. Bingham gave Guss a tender squeeze, which she all but returned, as she bade him take care and not go and kill himself. Peter Dillon stayed to have a few last words with Sophy, and to impress upon her his sister Nora's message, that she and _her_ sister were to be sure to come over on Friday to Ballyhaunis, and spend the night there.

"We will, if we're let, tell Nora," said Sophy; "but now Frank's at home, we must mind him, you know."

"Make him bring you over: there'll be a bed for him; the old house is big enough, heaven knows."

"Indeed it is. Well, I'll do my best; but tell Nora to be sure and get the fiddler from Hollymount. It's so stupid for her to be sitting there at the piano while we're dancing."

"I'll manage that; only do you bring Frank to dance with her," and another tender squeeze was given--and Peter hurried out to the horses.

And now they were all gone but the Parson. "Mrs O'Kelly," said he, "Mrs Armstrong wants a favour from you. Poor Minny's very bad with her throat; she didn't get a wink of sleep last night."

"Dear me--poor thing; Can I send her anything?"

"If you could let them have a little black currant jelly, Mrs Armstrong would be so thankful. She has so much to think of, and is so weak herself, poor thing, she hasn't time to make those things."

"Indeed I will, Mr Armstrong. I'll send it down this morning; and a little calf's foot jelly won't hurt her. It is in the house, and Mrs Armstrong mightn't be able to get the feet, you know. Give them my love, and if I can get out at all to-morrow, I'll go and see them."

And so the Parson, having completed his domestic emba.s.sy for the benefit of his sick little girl, followed the others, keen for the hunt; and the three ladies were left alone, to see the plate and china put away.

XXII. THE HUNT

Though the majority of those who were in the habit of hunting with the Kelly's Court hounds had been at the breakfast, there were still a considerable number of hors.e.m.e.n waiting on the lawn in front of the house, when Frank and his friends sallied forth. The dogs were collected round the huntsman, behaving themselves, for the most part, with admirable propriety; an occasional yelp from a young hound would now and then prove that the whipper [36] had his eye on them, and would not allow rambling; but the old dogs sat demurely on their haunches, waiting the well-known signal for action. There they sat, as grave as so many senators, with their large heads raised, their heavy lips hanging from each side of their jaws, and their deep, strong chests expanded so as to show fully their bone, muscle, and breeding.

[FOOTNOTE 36: whipper--an officer of the hunt whose duty was to help the hunstman control the hounds]

Among the men who had arrived on the lawn during breakfast were two who certainly had not come together, and who had not spoken since they had been there. They were Martin Kelly and Barry Lynch. Martin was dressed just as usual, except that he had on a pair of spurs, but Barry was armed cap-a-pie [37]. Some time before his father's death he had supplied himself with all the fas.h.i.+onable requisites for the field,--not because he was fond of hunting, for he was not,--but in order to prove himself as much a gentleman as other people. He had been out twice this year, but had felt very miserable, for no one spoke to him, and he had gone home, on both occasions, early in the day; but he had now made up his mind that he would show himself to his old schoolfellow in his new character as an independent country gentleman; and what was more, he was determined that Lord Ballindine should not cut him.

[FOOTNOTE 37: cap-a-pie--from head to foot]

He very soon had an opportunity for effecting his purpose, for the moment that Frank got on his horse, he unintentionally rode close up to him.

"How d'ye do, my lord?--I hope I see your lords.h.i.+p well?" said Barry, with a clumsy attempt at ease and familiarity. "I'm glad to find your lords.h.i.+p in the field before the season's over."

"Good morning, Mr Lynch," said Frank, and was turning away from him, when, remembering that he must have come from Dunmore, he asked, "did you see Martin Kelly anywhere?"

"Can't say I did, my lord," said Barry, and he turned away completely silenced, and out of countenance.

Martin had been talking to the huntsman, and criticizing the hounds.

He knew every dog's name, character, and capabilities, and also every horse in Lord Ballindine's stable, and was consequently held in great respect by Mick Keogh and his crew.

And now the business began. "Mick," said the lord, "we'll take them down to the young plantation, and bring them back through the firs and so into the gorse. If the lad's lying there, we must hit him that way."

"That's thrue for yer honer, my lord;" and he started off with his obedient family.

"You're wrong, Ballindine," said the Parson; "for you'll drive him up into the big plantation, and you'll be all day before you make him break; and ten to one they'll chop him in the cover."

"Would you put them into the gorse at once then?"

"Take 'em gently through the firs; maybe he's lying out--and down into the gorse, and then, if he's there, he must go away, and into a tip-top country too--miles upon miles of pasture--right away to Ballintubber,"

"That's thrue, too, my lord: let his Rivirence alone for understandhing a fox," said Mick, with a wink.

The Parson's behests were obeyed. The hounds followed Mick into the plantation, and were followed by two or three of the more eager of the party, who did not object to receiving wet boughs in their faces, or who delighted in riding for half an hour with their heads bowed close down over their saddle-bows. The rest remained with the whipper, outside.

"Stay a moment here, Martin," said Lord Ballindine. "They can't get away without our seeing them, and I want to speak a few words to you."

"And I want particularly to spake to your lords.h.i.+p," said Martin; "and there's no fear of the fox! I never knew a fox lie in those firs yet."

"Nor I either, but you see the Parson would have his way. I suppose, if the priest were out, and he told you to run the dogs through the gooseberry-bushes, you'd do it?"

"I'm blessed if I would, my lord! Every man to his trade. Not but what Mr Armstrong knows pretty well what he's about."

"Well but, Martin, I'll tell you what I want of you. I want a little money, without bothering those fellows up in Dublin; and I believe you could let me have it; at any rate, you and your mother together. Those fellows at Guinness's are stiff about it, and I want three hundred pounds, without absolutely telling them that they must give it me. I'd give you my bill for the amount at twelve months, and, allow you six per cent.; but then I want it immediately. Can you let me have it?"

"Why, my lord," said Martin, after pausing awhile and looking very contemplative during the time, "I certainly have the money; that is, I and mother together; but--"

"Oh, if you've any doubt about it--or if it puts you out, don't do it."

"Divil a doubt on 'arth, my lord; but I'll tell you I was just going to ask your lords.h.i.+p's advice about laying out the same sum in another way, and I don't think I could raise twice that much."

"Very well, Martin; if you've anything better to do with your money, I'm sure I'd be sorry to take it from you."

"That's jist it, my lord. I don't think I can do betther--but I want your advice about it."

"My advice whether you ought to lend me three hundred pounds or not!

Why, Martin, you're a fool. I wouldn't ask you to lend it me, if I thought you oughtn't to lend it."