Garryowen

"You're in the wrong thrain, mum; this thrain stops nowhere; this is the ixpress all the way to Cloyne. Out you get, for we want to be goin' on. Right, Larry!"

Effie's short lessons only consumed a couple of hours of each rain-soaked, wind-blown day. No one ever came to Drumgool except, maybe, a farmer now and then to see Mr. French; a...

"Where's your spectacles?" asked Effie, after they had conversed for a while, tucking the rug round herself and speaking with the jocularity and familiarity which generally is a...

On the morning of the 10th of April Mr. French awoke from a night of pleasant dreams to find the sun shining broad and strong through the window of his bedroom.

Miss Grimshaw's room was situated at the back of the house, overlooking the kitchen garden. Any sound from the stable-yard would reach it, and she determined to lie awake and li...

She handed him a neatly-printed card, folded in the middle. It looked like a ball programme. Nearly four months had passed. The Frenches had settled down at The Martens. The who...

There was no use in attempting to remove Garryowen to another training ground; it would be impossible to do so without being traced; besides, there was no other place available....

The City and Suburban morning broke fine; one of those April mornings fresh and sweet as spring herself. Mr. French, staying with Major Lawson at Badminton House, just outside E...

Bag in hand, Mr. Dashwood made for the door. To reach the station by road would mean the risk of meeting Miss Grimshaw. By the Downs side, skirting the allotments and the Episco...

Moriarty, when he left his master, betook him to the stables and his duties. Mr. Piper had vacated the stableyard, and was making a tour of the premises, admiring the view from...

When Bobby had sufficiently rested himself, he took the car to the inn at Crowsnest and put it up, and then came back to The Martens, where a bed was made up for him, and where...

"My dear," wrote Miss Grimshaw in another letter to that lady friend, "here we are at last. We arrived the day before yesterday evening, horses and all, including the servants....

He had seven pounds, the remains of the twelve pounds he had won at the Bridge Club, and he thanked fervently the powers above that he had the money about his person. To have le...

Nobody knew his age exactly. Under five feet, composed mostly of bone with a little skin stretched tightly over it, with a face that his cap nearly obliterated, Andy presented a...

The master of Drumgool, genial and cosey, and the very personification of welcome, had scarcely taken in with a glance the two pleasant-looking young people who had invaded his...

When Miss Grimshaw saw Bobby leading Mr. Giveen to the bazaar entrance she returned to her duties with so distracted a mind that she sold a seven-and-six-penny teacloth to Mrs....

"Come into the smoking-room," said Mr. Dashwood when they had shaken hands. "This is luck! I only came over by the morning boat. I'm coming down west. Oh, I'll tell you all abou...

It rained steadily from Monday afternoon till Thursday morning, and then, as if at the stroke of a great broom, the clouds broke up and were driven in piles over the hills, leav...

Croagh Mahon had been winding himself with scarves of mist all the day before, and he had come up so close to Drumgool that you might have hit him with a biscuit, to use Moriart...

The great old house of Drumgool, ugly as a barn, with a triton dressed in moss and blowing a conch shell before the front door, stands literally in the roar of the sea.

You could hear the song of the breakers in the cave and on the sand and the cry of the seagulls from the cliff and rock, and the breeze amid the cliff grass, but these sounds on...

A girl without a home and without relations is the loneliest thing on earth, simply because she is a woman, and nothing has such a capacity for loneliness as a woman.

It will be remembered that the night of the 5th of April was the date of the kidnapping of Mr. Giveen. Early in the morning of the 6th Mr. Dashwood awoke from his slumbers with...

Mr. Dashwood's chambers in the Albany were furnished according to the taste of that gentleman, high art giving place in the decorations to the art of physical culture. Some old...

Drumgool was a bachelor's, or, rather, a widower's, household. The dining-room, where dead-and-gone Frenches looked at one another from dusty canvases, was rarely used; the draw...

"You're right," said French. "Faith, the horse has nearly driven everything else out of my mind. It's a queer business the way that girl come to my house and saved my fortune. I...

Towards midnight, Miss Grimshaw was awakened from her slumbers by a sound as of some person weeping and wailing. She sat up in bed and listened. It was Effie's voice, and she he...

"Oh, bother violets!" said Mr. French. He had just come down the steps of the Kildare Street Club, he had lost five pounds at cards, the afternoon was drizzling, and he was bein...

Crowsnest lies upon a hill. It consists of a post-office, a tiny butcher's shop, a greengrocer's, an Italian warehouse, and a church. The London road climbs the hill, passes thr...

He felt that he had fallen on his feet. He had extracted two bottles of ginger-beer, some biscuits, and a drive in a taxicab from his new-found friend. He was going to extract a...

Mr. Giveen, on his enlargement, had returned hot-foot to London. The chicken-higgler's cart that had given him a lift on the road had deposited him at Blankmoor Station, where h...

"Oh, what a fool you have made of yourself! Oh, what a fool you have made of yourself!" said the friend who only speaks after an error has been committed, and then in a gloating...

The spring was early that year. The swallows must have known it, for they had returned several days before their time, and to-day, the 16th of April, the silence of the Roman ro...