"Then come on to Poulnaroe," said Mr. O'Conor. I trotted on quickly
by his side, and before we reached the cover had managed to slip in
something about Sir P. C.
"What the deuce!" said he. "What! a friend of Sir P-'s? Why the
deuce didn't you tell me so? What are you doing down here? Where
are you staying?" &c. &c. &c.
At Poulnaroe we found a fox, but before we did so Mr. O' Conor had
asked me over to Castle Conor. And this he did in such a way that
there was no possibility of refusing him--or, I should rather say, of
disobeying him. For his invitation came quite in the tone of a
command.
"You'll come to us of course when the day is over--and let me see;
we're near Ballyglass now, but the run will be right away in our
direction. Just send word for them to send your things to Castle
Conor."
"But they're all about, and unpacked," said I.
"Never mind. Write a note and say what you want now, and go and get
the rest to-morrow yourself. Here, Patsey!--Patsey! run into
Ballyglass for this gentleman at once. Now don't be long, for the
chances are we shall find here." And then, after giving some further
hurried instructions he left me to write a line in pencil to the
innkeeper's wife on the back of a ditch.
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