After that, I left him alone.

A little before teatime, he looked up at me, curiously.

“Sorry, old chap, if I was a bit short with you just now;” (just now, indeed! he had not spoken for the last three hours) “but I would not go there again,” and he indicated with his head, “for anything that you could offer me.  Ugh!” and he put down that history of a man’s terror and hope and despair.

The next morning, we rose early, and went for our accustomed swim:  we had partly shaken off the depression of the previous day; and so, took our rods when we had finished breakfast, and spent the day at our favorite sport.

After that day, we enjoyed our holiday to the utmost; though both of us looked forward to the time when our driver should come; for we were tremendously anxious to inquire of him, and through him among the people of the tiny hamlet, whether any of them could give us information about that strange garden, lying away by itself in the heart of an almost unknown tract of country.

At last, the day came, on which we expected the driver to come across for us.  He arrived early, while we were still abed; and, the first thing we knew, he was at the opening of the tent, inquiring whether we had had good sport.  We replied in the affirmative; and then, both together, almost in the same breath, we asked the question that was uppermost in our minds:—­Did he know anything about an old garden, and a great pit, and a lake, situated some miles away, down the river; also, had he ever heard of a great house thereabouts?

No, he did not, and had not; yet, stay, he had heard a rumor, once upon a time, of a great, old house standing alone out in the wilderness; but, if he remembered rightly it was a place given over to the fairies; or, if that had not been so, he was certain that there had been something “quare” about it; and, anyway, he had heard nothing of it for a very long while—­not since he was quite a gossoon.  No, he could not remember anything particular about it; indeed, he did not know he remembered anything “at all, at all” until we questioned him.

“Look here,” said Tonnison, finding that this was about all that he could tell us, “just take a walk ’round the village, while we dress, and find out something, if you can.”

With a nondescript salute, the man departed on his errand; while we made haste to get into our clothes; after which, we began to prepare breakfast.

We were just sitting down to it, when he returned.

“It’s all in bed the lazy divvils is, sor,” he said, with a repetition of the salute, and an appreciative eye to the good things spread out on our provision chest, which we utilized as a table.

“Oh, well, sit down,” replied my friend, “and have something to eat with us.”  Which the man did without delay.

After breakfast, Tonnison sent him off again on the same errand, while we sat and smoked.  He was away some three-quarters of an hour, and, when he returned, it was evident that he had found out something.  It appeared that he had got into conversation with an ancient man of the village, who, probably, knew more—­though it was little enough—­of the strange house, than any other person living.