Hallow-e’en or Hallow-Even is the last night of October, being the eve or vigil of All-Hallow’s or All Saint’s Day, and no holiday in all the year is so informal or so marked by fun both for grown-ups as well as children as this one. On this night there should be nothing but laughter, fun and mystery. It is the night when Fairies dance, Ghosts, Witches, Devils and mischief-making Elves wander around. It is the night when all sorts of charms and spells are invoked for prying into the future by all young folks and sometimes by folks who are not young.

Ross and me two strokes,” proposed Thomas, “we will play you for the dinners.”

I felt sure it was a put-up job, but what could I say?

“I did not dare choose you for my partner, Mr. Smith,” interposed Miss Dangerfield. “I know it is tiresome for a good player to go pottering around the links with women at his heels, and only suggested a game if you had no other engagements.”

“Mr. Smith dare not plead another engagement,” asserted Miss Ross, her dark eyes flashing a challenge. She is a lovely girl, but digs up the turf terribly.

“Smith has no game on. He has been over there talking for an hour,” added Thomas, before I could say a word. I could have murdered him.

“I am delighted, and it is kind of you to ask me,” I lied most effusively. “It is an easy game for us, Miss Dangerfield.”

“Do not be too sure,” scornfully laughed Miss Rosa. “Mr. Thomas is a splendid player.”

NORA The young priest says he’s known the like of it. “If it’s Michael’s they are,” says he, “you can tell herself he’s got a clean burial by the grace of God, and if they’re not his, let no one say a word about them, for she’ll be getting her death,” says he, “with crying and lamenting.”

[The door which Nora half closed is blown open by a gust of wind.]

CATHLEEN [Looking out anxiously.]

Did you ask him if would he stop Bartley going this day with the horses to the Galway fair?

NORA “I won’t stop him,” says he, “but let you not be afraid. Herself does be saying prayers half through the night, and the Almighty God won’t leave her destitute,” says he, “with no son living.”

CATHLEEN Is the sea bad by the white rocks, Nora?

NORA Middling bad, God help us. There’s a great roaring in the west, and it’s worse it’ll be getting when the tide’s turned to the wind.