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They have reached the farm again by this time, and Geoffrey, taking up the guns he had left behind the hall door,—or what old Scully is pleased to call the front door in contradistinction to the back door, through which he is in the habit of making his exits and entrances,—holds out his hand to bid her good-by.,"A great deal. I should. I have heard of almost nothing else since my arrival in England," replies he, slowly.,"Oh," she called out, "if you will only jump off into the piskun I will marry one of you." She did not mean this, but said it just in fun, and as soon as she had said it, she wondered greatly when she saw the buffalo come jumping over the edge, falling down the cliff.,"Why is this?" said her father. "Some of these young men are rich, handsome, and brave.","Is your home very beautiful?" asks she, timidly, looking at him the more earnestly in that he seems rapt in contemplation of the valley that spreads itself before him.,Ill luck has attended his efforts to-day, or else his thoughts have been wandering in the land where love holds sway, because he is empty-handed. The bonnie brown bird has escaped him, and no gift is near to lay at Mona's shrine.,"I think, sir, after that you may consider yourself flattened," says Geoffrey, with a laugh.,"Come on," said Morning Star, "let us go and kill those birds.",CHAPTER XXI.,A strange scene presents itself to their expectant gaze. Before them is a large room (if so it can be called), possessed of no flooring but the bare brown earth that Mother Nature has supplied. To their right is a huge fireplace, where, upon the hearthstone, turf lies burning dimly, emitting the strong aromatic perfume that belongs to it. Near it crouches an old woman with her blue-checked apron thrown above her head, who rocks herself to and fro in silent grief, and with every long-drawn breath—that seems to break from her breast like a stormy wave upon a desert shore—brings her old withered palms together with a gesture indicative of despair.,But this word comes not. In vain does the angry urn hiss. The teapot holds aloft its haughty nose for naught. The cups and saucers range themselves in military order all for nothing. Lady Rodney is dissolved in tears.,"Then, thank you, Mrs. Corcoran, I will have a potato," says Rodney, gratefully, honest hunger and the knowledge that it will please Mona to be friendly with "her people," as she calls them, urging him on. "I'm as hungry as I can be," he says..