TOM GROGAN
results of his inquiries about Tom, to know exactly what his own chances were with the girl. He could slip over to the house while Tom was in the city, and leave before she returned.
On his way, the next day, he robbed a garden fence of a mass of lilacs, breaking off the leaves as he walked. When he reached the door of the big stable he stopped for a moment, glanced cautiously in to see if he could find any preparations for the new work, and then, making a mental note of the surroundings, followed the path to the porch.
Pop opened the door. He knew Quigg only by sight—an unpleasant sight, he thought, as he looked into his hesitating, wavering eyes.
“It's a bad fire ye had, Mr. Mullins,” said Quigg, seating himself in the rocker, the blossoms half strangled in his grasp.
“Yis, purty bad, but small loss, thank God,” said Pop quietly.
“That lets her out of the contract, don't it?” said Quigg. “She'll be short of horses now.”
Pop made no answer. He did not intend
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