“Yous ’ull have all the luck, I suppose?” put in Maggie Nolan enviously.

“Not at all.  What’s that he says here about nieces, Ju?” returned Mrs. McNally, leaning over her daughter’s shoulder, and pointing with her plump forefinger.

“‘Or maybe one of them three nieces I was hearin’ ye have livin’ with ye I knew your poor sister Bridget R.I.P. as well as I know yourself an’ I know all she done for her family.’”

“The sharpness o’ that!” interrupted Henrietta.  “The ould fellow knows me A’nt Bridget had a nice little fortun’, an’ I’ll engage he made sure the three of yous has a share in the business.”

“Young nieces,” soliloquised Matilda, looking pensively at Bridget and Mary.

“Young daughters, too, if ye please,” returned Bridget with spirit, and her glance fell upon Juliana.

“Well, go on, Ju, finish it,” said Mrs. McNally, laughing immoderately.  “You can all be pulling caps for him afterwards.”

“‘Me son,’ read Juliana, ‘has business in Dublin this next week an’ if you’ve no objections he could run out on an early train some mornin’ an’ pay his respects to yourself an’ the girls an’ he can be tellin’ ye all about our place an’ his prospects in life he’s the only son I have an’ its a good farm an’ a comfortable house an’ many a girl would think she was doin’ well for herself so hopin’ you’ll think well of the idea I will say no more this time yours ancettery, TIMOTHY BRENNAN.  P.S.—­My son Brian is six foot high an’ has a beautiful head of hair he is very—­’ What in the name o’ fortun’ is that word, m’mah?”

“Hearty, is it?” said Mrs. McNally, craning her short neck.  “No—­happy, maybe—­no, that’s not it. Healthy, that’s it!  ‘He is very healthy.’”

“Laws!” said Henrietta, “that’s a quare thing to be sayin’.  Who cares whether he’s healthy or not?”

“A-ah, me dear,” returned her mother sagely, “when ye get to my age ye’ll know it makes a great deal o’ differ—­especially to a farmer.  The poor d’da!  Rest his soul!—­well, well, we won’t be talkin’ o’ them times, but he was a great sufferer; an’ if it was a farmer he was the house wouldn’t have held him.  It’s a terrible thing for a poor farmer to be tryin’ to go about his place, an’ him not gettin’ his health.  I’m glad this young fellow is healthy.”

“Six foot!” commented Matilda, who was inclined to be sentimental.

“A beautiful head of hair,” exclaimed Anna Maria, with a giggle.  “Troth, if it’s me he takes a fancy to I’ll be combin’ it for him.”

“Well,” said Juliana indignantly, “I think ye’re takin’ too much on yourself, Nanny, to go pickin’ him up that way.  There’s others has a better right to be considered first.”

“You’re the oldest, of course,” said Anna Maria meekly.

“There’s others older nor her, though,” burst out Bridget.

“The oldest daughter has the first claim,” cried Juliana, with heightened colour.