‘I don’t—­exactly—­know the nature of the business, gentlemen,’ said Father Roach, with considerable hesitation.

‘Urgent, however, it was—­wasn’t it?’ said Devereux.

‘Urgent—­well; certainly—­a—­and——­’

’And a summons there was no resisting—­from a lady—­eh?  You said so, Father Roach,’ persisted Devereux.

‘A—­from a leedy—­a—­yes—­certainly,’ replied he.

‘A widow—­is not she?’ enquired Devereux.

‘A widda, undoubtedly,’ said the priest.

‘Thay no more Thir,’ said little Puddock, to the infinite relief of the reverend father, who flung another look of reproach at Devereux, and muttered his indignation to himself.  ’I’m perfectly satisfied; and so, I venture to thay, is Lieutenant O’Flaherty——­’

‘Is not he going to say something to Nutter?’ enquired Devereux.

‘Yes,’ whispered Puddock, ’I hope he’ll get through it.  I—­I wrote a few sentences myself; but he’s by no means perfect—­in fact, between ourselves, he’s a somewhat slow study.’

‘Suppose you purge his head again, Puddock?’ Puddock did not choose to hear the suggestion:  but Nutter, in reply to a complimentary speech from Puddock, declared, in two or three words, his readiness to meet Lieutenant O’Flaherty half-way; ’and curse me, Sir, if I know, at this moment, what I did or said to offend him.’

Then came a magnanimous, but nearly unintelligible speech from O’Flaherty, prompted by little Puddock, who, being responsible for the composition, was more nervous during the delivery of that remarkable oration, than the speaker himself; and ‘thuffered indethcribably’ at hearing his periods mangled; and had actually to hold O’Flaherty by the arm, and whisper in an agony—­’not yet—­curthe it—­not yet’—­to prevent the incorrigible fireworker from stretching forth his bony red hand before he had arrived at that most effective passage which Puddock afterwards gave so well in private for Dick Devereux, beginning, ’and thus I greet——­’

Thus was there a perfect reconciliation, and the gentlemen of the club, Toole included, were more than ever puzzled to understand the origin of the quarrel, for Puddock kept O’Flaherty’s secret magnificently, and peace prevailed in O’Flaherty’s breast until nearly ten months afterwards, when Cluffe, who was talking of the American war, asked O’Flaherty, who was full of volunteering, how he would like a ’clean shave with an Indian scalping knife,’ whereupon O’Flaherty stood erect, and having glowered about him for a moment, strode in silence from the room, and consulted immediately with Puddock on the subject, who, after a moment’s reflection found it no more than chance medley.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

DREAMS AND TROUBLES, AND A DARK LOOK-OUT.