“Of course he would.  But if he heard you were brave and cheerful over it all, it would not be half so bad for him.”

Mrs. Brady lay very quiet after this, and seemed to reflect.

When the priest came presently to administer the Sacraments of the dying to her, she roused herself and received them with much devotion, and presently beckoned Sister Louise to approach.

“Sisther, when Barney comes axin’ for me, will ye give him me bades an’ the little medal that’s round me neck, an’ tell him I left him me blessin’—­will ye, dear?”

“Indeed I will.”

“God bless ye!  An’ tell him,” speaking with animation and in rather louder tones.  “Tell him I didn’t fret at all, an’ died quite contint an’ happy an’—­an’ thankful to be in this blessed place, where I got every comfort.  Will ye tell him that, Sisther alanna?”

The Sister bowed her head:  this time she could not speak.

* * * * *

It was nearly two months afterwards that Sister Louise was summoned to the parlour to see “Mr. Brady,” who had recently arrived from America, and to whom his cousin, Mrs. Byrne, had broken the news of his mother’s death.

Sister Louise smiled and sighed as she looked at this big, strapping, prosperous-looking young fellow, and remembered his mother’s description of him.  The black eyes and curly hair and rosy cheeks were all there, certainly, but otherwise the likeness to “St. Patrick” was not so very marked.

“Mr. Brady wants to hear all about his poor mother, Sister,” said the Sister Superior.  “This is Sister Louise, Mr. Brady, who attended your poor mother to the last.”

Mr. Brady, who seemed a taciturn youth, rolled his black eyes towards the new comer and waited for her to proceed.

Very simply did Sister Louise tell her little story, dwelling on such of his mother’s sayings, during her last illness, as she thought might interest and comfort him.

“There are her beads, and the little medal, which she always wore.  She left them to you with her blessing.”

Barney thrust out one huge brown hand and took the little packet, swallowing down what appeared to be a very large lump in his throat.

“She told me,” pursued the Sister in rather tremulous tones, “to tell you that she did not fret at all at the last, and died content and happy.  She did, indeed, and she told me to say that she was thankful to be here—­”

But Barney interrupted her with a sudden incredulous gesture and a big sob, “Ah, whisht, Sisther!” he said.

THE FLITTING OF THE OLD FOLKS

“Maggie!  Maggie!  Glory be to goodness! where in the world has that child gone off with herself to? Maggie!  Sure I’ve been roarin’ an’ bawlin’ for ye this half-hour.  Run up this minute to Mr. Brophy’s—­they’re afther gettin’ a letther from America, an’ they can’t get any one to read it for them, the cratur’s.  Hurry now, that’s a good little girl; I’m goin’ up myself along wid ye.  Poor Mrs. Brophy’ll be nearly out of her mind.”