THE O'FARRELLY FEUD
COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.
By
GEORGE A. BIRMINGHAM.
Author of “General John Regan,” “Up the Rebels,” etc., etc.
CHAPTER 111. Daphne had not been content to wait in the hall where Quinn had left her. Before the cutler had left the library she entered it, walking briskly, with a smiling face, like one quite sure of a warm welcome. ' The other girl, whose presence Quinn had announced, was less confident.
She followed a few steps behind Daphne. She seemed nervous and, uncomfortable. She took one brief glance at Lady Margaret, a slightly longer glance at Ronnie and then lowered her eyes. An acute observed might have guessed that she was frightened and more anxious to keep out of the room than to enter it. Ronnie Macinray. always acute and generally aware of what went on round him, formed just that opinion of what the girl's feeling: were.
"How do you do. Aunt Margaret,’ said Daphne. “I hope you're well.” It is the duty, even occasionally the pleasure, of a niece to kiss an aim when meeting ner after a long separation. Daphne Knew this; but she alsi knew Lady Margaret and realised that the old lady was “not the. kissing sort.” She held out a hand but made no attempt to bring her face near her aunt’s.
Lady Margaret responded to her niece’s greeting with a firm clasp of the hand. Then she looked at Mousie. “And who’s this?” she said.
Daphne explained Mousie’s presence “I told you I was inviting her in my last letter,” she said, "and as you didn’t say no. I thought it would be all right. “If you told me that in a postscript,” said Lady Margaret, “or anywhere near -the bottom of your letter I didn’t read it. You know perfectly well Daphne, that I never read through long letters and that last one of yours covered four sides of notepaper. But it is all right, my dear,” she turned to Mousie. “There aie plenty of rooms in Carrickduv and plenty of food. What’s your name?” “Aureole,” said the girl. “I never knew that before,” said Daphne. “We always call her Mousie. If you look at her a moment you’ll see why.” Lady Margaret did not look. Having bidden her welcome she seemed to have lost interest in the girl and to be indifferent to the reason for her change of name. Ronnie Macinray who always looked at anything there was to see, recognised the appropriateness of the name at once. Mousie was unquestionably timid. Lady Margaret turned to Daphne again.
“So you’ve failed in your exam. Sensible girl.” The comment was a little unexpected. It is not thus that aunts usually regard the failures of the nieces. Daphne was too much surprised to grasp at once that Lady Margaret approved of what every one else regarded as a disaster. She attempted a feeble kind of apology. “But Mousie passed all right,” she said, “with honours in three subjects."
Lady Margaret for the first time looked at Mousie. It was a long look of critical appraisement. Mousie, exceedingly uncomfortable, blushed and shuffled her feet. She was at all times a shy girl who disliked attracting the attention of anyone, and she knew that she was not looking her best at the moment after the long and tiresome journey from London to Eallycon. But it was not her appearance which interested Lady Margaret. She was looking beyond the dirty face and tousled-hair, into the character of this girl who had passed an examination with honours.
“I can quite believe it,” she said. "She looks as if she would.”
This, if said in Elizabeth College by the President or anyone else in authority might have been taken as a high compliment. To look like a successful student is very like the first step towards becoming one. And Mousie might have understood the words in that way, if Lady Margaret had not destroyed the illusion by what she said next.
“Never mind, my dear,” she patted Mousie’s hand, “I daresay you couldn't held it.”
In her opinion Mousie’s distressing appearance was not so much the result of the journey as the natural expression of the kind of nature which succeeds in passing examinations. “Mousie.” said Daphne, defending her friend, “is frightfully clever.” “I’m glad to hear it,” said Lady Margaret. "It's quite time I had someone here with brains. Ronnie has none. I hope she'll make herself useful now that she’s here.”
“Of course, she will.” said Daphne. “And so will I." “I love arranging flowers,” said Mousie.
That was her idea, a very prevalent one, of how a girl may be useful in a large country house. “Mother,” she said, “always said I was quite good at it.”
“Arranging flowers!” said Lady Margaret. “What 1 want is someone who can deal with poachers.” This was a startling idea and considered as an amusement for young women, quite novel tn Daphne, but it in no way overwhelmed' her. “Of course we’ll take on your poachers for you,” she said. “There's nothing we should like better. Is there Mousie?” “Of course,” said Mousie dutifully. In her heart sne shrank greatly from Ihe thought of having anything to do with poachers. They were, so she supposed, men who carried guns with which to shoot gamekeepers and others who attempted to interfere with them,l certainly not people with whom any, nice girl ought to associate. "What was that examination of
yours about,” said Lady Margaret.
mean what was the subject? Law?’ "Oh, no,” sai Mousie. "Dietetics.
"That," said Daphne, "means carbohydrates and— —” "I don't know or want to know what it means,” said Lady Margaret. “I hoped it. might have been law because if it had been you might have been able to teach Ronnie his job. At present he’s totally incompetent.
Lady Margaret took Daphne by the hand and led her over the the window. Mousie followed meekly. Ronnie, curious to see what would happen next, took his place behind Lady Margaret. “There they are,” said Lady Margaret.
Peter O’Farrelly and his son. Dan were plainly to be seen. They had stretched their net across the entrance of the tide filled creek and were busy making one end of it fast to a post which they had set up firmly among the rocks on shore. Their boat, a cranky looking craft, swung at the end of a rope just outside the creek, in a few minutes they would cross the creek and secure the other end of the net. Then there would be nothing for them to do but to wait until the tide ebbed and after that gather their booty into baskets and row home.
Daphne, her eyes guided by her aunt's pointing finger, saw them. She was a quick witted girl and grasped at once that they must be the poachers of whom her aunt had spoken, with whom she and her friend were expected to deal. But she felt a little disappointed. The enterprise promised less adventure than she hoped; but that, of course, was no reason for shrinking from it.
“Only two,” she said, “and one of them a boy. We ought to be able to manage them ail right. What do you think, Mousie? ' “Do you mean fight them?” said Mousie, tremulously. “Of course, said Daphne. “I suppose you can lend us a gun, Aunt Margaret? I’d ask for two, only lam sure Mousie would be afraid of her life to fire one.” 1
“I don’t know,” said Lady Margaret “that I’d care to let you have one of your uncle’s guns. They haven’t been touched since he died —and that’s nearly ten years ago. They might explode or refuse to go off, which would be worse."
Lady Margaret had evidently no objection 'to tne shooting of Peter O’Farrelly, but she did feel a little anxious about . her niece’s safety. Mousie, a well-brought-up and lawabiding English girl, felt differently. “Daphne,” said Moysie, “you don’t mean to shoot those two men, do you?” “Poachers,” said Daphne, “ are always shot. Aren't they, Aunt Margaret?” “They always ought to be,” said Lady Margaret, “especially that ruffian Peter O’Farrelly and his son. They . wouldn t hesitate to shoot us if they got the chance. If I can’t lend you a gun, Ronnie will. Then you'll be able to get to work at once. He always drives about with a gun in the back of his car. Don’t- deny it now. Ronnie —you do.”
Ronnie Mac did not wish to deny that he carried a gun about with him. There was always a chance of a shot at a stray plover or a wild duck when crossing the bog land between Ballycon and Carrickduv. But he had not the slightest intention of lending it to Daphne Dare, in order that she could go out and shoot Peter O’Farrelly. “You can’t go out shooting people in that casual way,” he said. “Nonsense,” said Lady Margaret. “You can if you like. In Ireland,” she explained to Daphne, “it’s the regular custom to shoot anyone you don’t approve of. Peter O’Farrelly has shot plenty of men in his time—better men than himself. You can’t deny that, Ronnie. And anyhow, that fellow would be no loss to anyone.”
“If you murder Peter O’Farrelly,” said Ronnie, “it won’t be with my gun.”
“Who’s talking about murder?” said Eady Margaret. “All that’s necessary is to pepper nis legs thoroughly with small shot, and I don’t expect Daphne would even do that. She’d be almost sure to miss him.”
“No I shouldn't,” said Daphne. “I'd hit him if I got anywhere near him.” ‘Have you ever fired a gun?” asked Lady Margaret. ‘No.” said Daphne. “But I know how to. You just pull the trigger and it goes oil', it it’s loaded. Somebody else must load it. I don’t know how to do that.”
She had never in her life fired a gun but she had not the slightest doubt of her ability to nit the mark if she did shoot. She was, indeed, a young woman of great self-confidence, sure that she could do anything she tried, except perhaps pass examinations. "Anyhow ,1 won’t lend you my gun,” said Ronnie.’ “And what’s more, you’d better /get it into your head that Peter O’Farrelly’s not poaching, whatever Lady Margaret says. It would be different if it were salmon or even sea trout. But it's not poaching to catch mullet. I’ve told you that a dozen times, Lady Margaret. I wish you’d believe me.”
“If he’s not poaching he’s trespassing," said Lady Margaret. “And that comes to the same thing. What right has he to drive his posts into my land? It is my land, isn’t it?” Ronnie sighed. As a lawyer he knew that there is no more disputable subject than the ownership of land on the verge of the sea. The shore below high-water mark is not the property of any neighbouring landlord. The fields out of reach of the sea are or may be private property. But between the two are rocks and patches of grass occasionally covered by a high tide or storm-driven water. About the ownership of these there may be endless disputing and it was on just such
land that Peter O’Farrelly had set the posts to which he fastened the ends of his net.
“He’s not trespassing either,” said Rennie Mac. “At least it would be very difficult to prove that ho is. And in any case ycu can’t shoot him for it." “If you won’t prosecute him,” said Lady Margaret,' "I’ll shoot him. Then he can prosecute me if he likes and we’ll see what the Judge says about the ownership of the land. Not that I’m likely to get justice from one of these new republican judges.” This was carrying the discussion into the region of politics and Daphne was quite unable to follow it. The girl was a realist with a dislike for academic arguments. It did not seem to her to matter what would happen after Peter O’Farrelly was shot, if there was any possibility of shooting him.
“I can't shoot him without a gun,” she said regretfully. “And if Uncle Lucius's guns wont go off and you' won't lend me yours, it seems to me that the shooting is definitely oil. But there's nothing to prevent our going for him with sticks, good, thick, heavy sticks. Come on. Mousie." "I'd much rather not," said Mousie. “Of course you'd rather not. Duty is never pleasant, but no one with any conscience shrinks from it on that account." (To be Continued).
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Wairarapa Times-Age, 24 May 1940, Page 10
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2,108THE O'FARRELLY FEUD Wairarapa Times-Age, 24 May 1940, Page 10
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