The district inspector, a stout and self-opinionated youth, had shown marked symptoms of admiration, these coupled with discreet desire to know if she was one of those widows whose husbands left provisos in their wills.
Mr. Keefe joined the group at the moment. He was also asked to tea, and Darby nodded.
Violet Weston held out an eager hand for the telegram and clamoured for news. Personally, she was one of the optimists who regarded the retreat as mere strategy to lure the Germans on, and who considered that the war would end in Berlin with the Kaiser on exhibition in a neat brass cage.
Stafford read the message aloud, keeping it himself.
"You see, you wouldn't understand it," said Gheena, eyeing her knitting. "He has them sent to him in some code or other."
Stafford tore up the wire into very small pieces and coloured faintly.
Mrs. Weston, walking on, was as fine as an optimist as Gheena had been as a strategist.
She reviewed the revealed facts of the Germans having been found starving, their foolish mistakes, and of that dreadful man, the Kaiser.
"The scald to him and his likes," said a voice bitterly.
The old kennel huntsman, Barty, limped out from behind a hedge of crimson fuchsias, his face set dolorously.
"The scald to all Kaysers," said Barty, "with Mrs. Day down to say, an' thruth in it, that seven geese were whipt lasht night, and that ould Larry Hassit, that was never too dacent, swearin' he'll pisin if the foxes isn't kilt. If there's no huntin' now there'll never be huntin' again, Misther Darby," said Barty lugubriously. "I declare to God the poor craythers of hounds an' I out, do be throwin' an eye across the finces an' then an eye up to me, an' they are but axin' the question aloud why they wouldn't be let off to hunt. Signs bye, the nice run I had afther two of the puppies last Thursday, and what harm but it was a hare an' I lambastin' them, Sammy must let the resht out of hand, and where did they make but up into Grange Gorse just across the road and frightened Mrs. Harby's bawn of cows hither an' over, an' she milkin' them at the time."
Gheena dropped her knitting, and wished to know if someone could not hunt the hounds. "Why not, Darby? And----" She could whip in, they might try.