Very likely, when the time came, they would run away; but in the meanwhile here they were, swaggering through the streets of Dublin, outward and visible signs of a force in the country hostile to the hopes of the _Croppy_, a force that some day Republican Ireland would have to reckon with.
Augusta Goold herself was more tolerant and more philosophic than her friends.

She looked at the yeomen with a certain admiration.

Their exuberant youthfulness, their strutting, and their obvious belief in themselves, made a strong appeal to her imagination.
'Look at that young man,' she said to Hyacinth, pointing out a volunteer who passed them in the street.

'I happen to know who he is.

In fact, I knew his people very well indeed at one time, and spent a fortnight with them once when that young man was a toddler, and sometimes sat on my knee--at least, he may have sat on my knee.