Page:MacGrath--The luck of the Irish.djvu/168

 nor particularly humble that she had not bothered to catalogue him. When he shook hands with her, there was never that extra pressure which the average woman learns to dread.

William guarded his secret well; neither in his voice nor in his eyes was there ever a hint of the volcano bubbling and seething below. It was only when he was alone and unobserved that little craters opened up to relieve the pressure. No doubt this required a good deal of will-power. But there was this fact always before him: he was going to watch over this school-teacher of his until she was safely home.

So, then, to her he was a good comrade, amusing, lively; but she rarely carried any thought of him over the threshold of her room.

She stepped down from the pedestal, brushing the corn dust from her hands and sleeves.

"Say, sister, would you mind feeding the doves for five minutes while I hike up the alley there," pointing under the clock, "and get some tobacco? I'm dying for a smoke."

"Run along. I could stay here all day with these doves."

William thereupon settled his hat firmly and darted across the square, disappearing up the "alley," as he called the Merceria.

Ruth squatted to the pavement and began sprinkling the corn about. She had learned that it did not pay to feed the doves too much at once. They were ungrateful little beggars; and, well fed, they were quite likely to depart by twos and threes