 The spot where the O'Rourke family had lived for almost a hundred years was known as Island McGee. The long, narrow, hilly road that stretched between high-thorn hedges to the nearby town bore the name of No Head Lonan. Each Monday morning, it was Kathleen O'Rourke's custom to walk down the Lonan to the village post office. Since she started out at an early hour, the road was usually deserted. But on a certain morning in June, as she passed the cottage of her neighbor, Molly Donovan, she saw Molly standing at the gate, beckoning to her. Kathleen, you wouldn't be going for the post office, would you, darling? Yes, I would, Molly. And could you be doing a great favor for me while you're there now? It's my brother, Patrick. Three months he's gone now, Kathleen, and not a word has he written me. And I'm not worried about him. Do you want me to inquire at the post office if there's a letter written for you? That's it. If it's not too much to be asking you. There's nothing at all, Molly. Wait right here. I'll be back. And Kathleen O'Rourke continued along the road. At the post office, she collected her family's mail, but the postmaster shook his head and said there was nothing for the Donovan household. And so Kathleen turned back to her home. And it was then, just after she'd passed the outskirt to the village and started up the know at Lonan, it was then that she saw the man. He was tall. She had a feeling that he was handsome. A few moments later, she stood at Molly Donovan's gate. No word from the problem. No word, nothing at all. Oh, heaven help him. Now I am worried for sure. But Kathleen O'Rourke did not stay to reassure her neighbor. She spent quickly on toward home. And only when she reached the top of the hill did she stop to look behind her. Well now, what do you know? I thought the Lord was estranged in these parts. But there he is, standing at the gate, talking to Molly Donovan. Until the following Monday, when she passed by the Donovan cottage again, that she had a chance to ask Molly a few questions. Who writing now, Molly? The lad that was working right behind me last Monday morning. I saw no lad, Kathleen. How can you say that, Molly? You know yourself is tough to talk to you. It's mistaken, you are last. No one said a word to me that morning, besides yourself. But I saw him with my own eyes. He was standing here at this gate. Well, some joke you're playing, darling. You're taking a poor time for it. Sure, and my heart's too heavy even for that. Tis my brother, Patrick. We heard last night. He's gone, darling. Washed overboard, lost at sea. It happened early last Monday morning. He must have died just when you were running up, no head lowing. Yes, Molly Donovan's brother died at the very moment the strange young man appeared on the road behind Kathleen O'Rourke. Though Kathleen saw that man following after her, saw him stop at the gate and talk to Molly, Molly herself was unaware of his presence. This is only one of many such stories out of the country of error. A story incredible but true.