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Dennis came to the farming town on the hills among the green cedars; he banged on the door of the Governor’s house with his hard knuckles, in real Irish vigor.

The Governor’s wife answered the startling knock.

“And faith it is a shipwrecked sailor. I am from the north of ould Ireland, it is now, and would you be after a man of all work, or any work? There is lots of days of work now in these two fists, lady, and that you may well believe.” He bowed three times.

“The Governor is away from home,” said my lady. “He has gone to New Haven by the sea. What is your name?”

“My name is Dennis O’Hay, an honest name as ever there was in Ireland of the north countrie, and I am an honest man.”

“You look it, my good friend. You have an honest face, but there is fire in it.”

“And there are times, lady, when the coals should burn on the hearth of the heart, and flame up into one’s cheeks and eyes. A storm is coming, lady, a land storm; there are hawks in the air. I would serve you well, lady. It is a true heart that you have. I can see it in your face, lady.”