Part 2 (1/2)

She thought a minute, and O'Donnell smiled on her.

I can imagine ice banks melting under that smile.

”I suppose we could give you hot roast chicken,” said she.

”Why, of course you could. Roast chicken is just what you _could_ give us, and potatoes with their jackets on----”

”And soup,” said the girl, evidently excited over the prospect.

”Yes, we'll leave the rest to you.”

So we went out and walked through the lovely countryside, noting that in Ireland fuchsias grow to the proportions of our lilac bushes and are loaded with the pretty red flowers.

We were unable to name most of the trees we saw (but that sometimes happens in America), yet we were both sure we had not seen their like at home. And the freshness of them all, the brilliant quality of their green, fulfilled all expectations.

We took a long walk and arrived at the inn with appet.i.tes sharpened.

Friends in America had told me that I'd not fare very well in Ireland except in the large towns. I would like to ask at what small hotel--New York or Chicago or Philadelphia--I would get as well cooked or as well served a dinner as was brought to me in Londonderry for three s.h.i.+llings and sixpence.

If one is looking for Waldorf magnificence and French disguises he'll not find them here unless it is at Dublin, but if one is blessed with a good appet.i.te and is willing to put up with plain cooking I fancy he will do better here than at like hotels at home.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PROSPERITY IN LIMERICK]

The Irish are such good cooks that we in the east (of America) have been employing them for two generations. Let us not forget that.

We entered the dining-room and had an appetizing soup and then the Irish potatoes (oh, such Irish potatoes!) and anything tenderer or better cooked than the chicken it would have been hard to find. We looked at each other and decided that we would not go on to Port Salon next day, but would spend another night in Rathmullan, and we said so to the maid.

”But you'll take other rooms?” said she, alarmed at once.

”Oh, yes, honey, we'll go anywhere you put us.”

Now you know we had an itinerary, and to stay longer at Rathmullan was to cut it short somewhere else, but the stillness and calm, the purple shadows on the mountains and the lake (Lough Sw.i.l.l.y means Lake of Shadows), had us gripped and we were content to stay and make the most of it.

A simple, golden rule sort of people the inhabitants are. We came on a man clipping hawthorn bushes and asked him how far it was to a certain point and whether we could ”car” it there.

He told us we could and then he said, ”Were ye thinkin' of hirin' a car, sir?”

”Yes,” said O'Donnell.

”I have one,” said he.

”Well,” said O'Donnell, ”we've talked to the landlady about hiring hers----”

”Ah, yes,” said the man. ”Sure I don't want ye to take mine if she expects to rint hers.”

Such altruism!

We had comfortable beds in the rooms that had been engaged by wire ”for to-morrow,” and indeed they were so comfortable that we never saw the sunrise at all. But the view from our windows was worth the price of the rooms and that was--listen!--two s.h.i.+llings and sixpence apiece!