sunset; rubbed down the mare, fed her, and walked up the track to the house. Tod was sluicing his head in a bucket; but he brought it out with a chuckle as Randal passed by the whare.
“Bedad, thin, me foine boyo,” he murmured, “there’s apt to be the big throuble for ye directly.”
“Where?” demanded Moody, opening an eye. He was lying on his stomach, waiting for the tea-bell.
“Och; it’s jist hersilf comin’ wid wan Randal wud sooner be afther meeting wid a chopper than wid her, if Scott shpoke the truth.”
“Scott can’t speak truth,” said Moody, blinking up the track. “Miss Effie and Kiliat! That skunk’s allers here.”
“Ye’ve said it. And Randal is apt to know of it, too.”
The path was narrow, with wet grass on each side. Randal made way, touching his cap. And the girl nodded carelessly, listening to Kiliat. Randal tramped on up the track, and Moody turned with a grunt.
“Told yer Scott lied. They never put eyes on each other.”
“Ye’re the wise man, entoirely,” said Tod, and his voice nettled Moody.
“More’n you are then! Go and drip on somebody else fur a spell, can’t ye? Here’s
