Stone men, battered and peevish from neglect, guarded either side of the wide entire garden walk, their faces pimpled with green patches.
At the back the usual vastness of old yards stood grass-grown and half ruinous.
A short avenue ran to the twisty lane coming down to Girtnamurragh, a lane bordered by low banks and gorse bushes, sprinkled with gold and sweetness.
Up this, abandoning her quest for caves, Gheena walked. Mrs. Weston hobbled, abusing the ruts and stones.
They reached the narrow ribbon of the coast road, to find its only occupants at the moment Looney Rooney and his ass car, and an old man going to the village for provisions.
Looney Rooney stopped to listen while Gheena spoke to Flaherty, who was pleased to talk of the sad state of affairs.
"Sugar risin', Miss, an' flour. All cakes, I suppose, the soldjers ates beyant near Mons, an' it terrible hard to live, but gran' times for shops. Hasn't Guinane taken over Rooney's old house next to this own to store all the supplies he brings in? Faix, the aisy time he has with yourself, Ma'am."
"Not looking after my cabbages," said Violet, sitting down and again kicking off one shoe.
"A big slhated house for all his supplies, no less. God save us, Mr. Stafford, but you were there as silent as a Roosian!"
Basil Stafford had appeared suddenly, coming over a gap on to the road.
"A slated house he's taken, has he?" he said to old Flaherty. "Are you hunting for submarines, Miss Freyne?"
Violet Weston said that she was, personally, hunting for a drive home, and must get it somehow, as her shoes were hurting her.
She grew radiant when Stafford pointed out the long grey nose of his new car, standing in the shelter of the hedge some way down the road. Return being made simple, they must ask Stafford to the picnic tea, and Gheena did so lamely just as hoofs sounded and Miss Delorme took a narrow bank on to the road with complete confidence and loose reins.
"Over ye'll be, Miss, if ye will not lay a howlt to his head," said Phil's voice warningly.
"Also, if Looney Rooney had been at his own side of the road, you would have jumped upon him and his ass," said Darby mildly.
Mrs. Weston remarked that it was quite a party now, and someone must get more bread and butter from the village. Rooney volunteered obligingly for a bribe of sixpence.