“Maybe so,” she replied; “an’ why wouldn’t I?  Shough! that is here!”

“Long life to you, Katy.  Well,” proceeded the worthy man, “if it was a poor person that wanted them an’ that took them from hardship, why God forgive them as heartily as I do:  but if they wor stole by a thief, for thievin’s sake, I hope I’ll always be able to afford the loss of a pair betther than the thief will to do without them; although God mend his or her heart, whichever it was, in the mane time.”

During this chat Bryan and Hanna Cavanagh were engaged in that good-humored badinage that is common to persons of their age and position.

“I didn’t see you at Mass last Sunday, Bryan?” said she, laughing; “an’ that’s the way you attend to your devotions.  Upon my word you promise well!”

“I seen you, then,” replied Bryan, “so it seems if I haven’t betther eyes I have betther eyesight.”

“Indeed I suppose,” she replied, “you see everything but what you go to see.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” he replied, with an involuntary glance at Kathleen, who seemed to enjoy her sister’s liveliness, as was evident from the sweet and complacent smile which beamed upon her features.

“Indeed I suppose you’re right,” she replied; “I suppose you go to say everything but your prayers.”

“An’ is it in conversation with Jemmy Kelly,” asked Bryan, jocularly, alluding to her supposed admirer, “that you perform your own devotions, Miss Hanna?”

“Hanna, achora,” said the father, “I think you’re playin’ the second fiddle there—­ha! ha! ha!”

The laugh was now general against Hanna, who laughed as loudly, however, as any of them.

“Throth, Kathleen,” she exclaimed, “you’re not worth knot’s o’ straws or you’d help me against this fellow here; have you nothing,” she proceeded, addressing Bryan, and nodding towards her sister, “to say to her?  Is everything to fall on my poor shoulders?  Come, now,” with another nod in the same direction, “she desarves it for not assistin’ me.  Who does she say her devotions with?”

“Hem—­a—­is it Kathleen you mane?” he inquired, with rather an embarrassed look.

“Not at all,” she replied ironically, “but my mother there—­ha! ha! ha!  Come, now, we’re waitin’ for you.”

“Come, now?” he repeated, purposely misunderstanding her—­“oh, begad, that’s a fair challenge;” and he accordingly rose to approach her with the felonious intent of getting a kiss; but Hanna started from her wheel and ran out of the house to avoid him.

“Throth, you’re a madcap, Hanna,” exclaimed her mother, placidly—­“an antick crather, dear knows—­her heart’s in her mouth every minute of the day; an’ if she gets through the world wid it always as light, poor girl, it’ll be well for her.”

“Kathleen, will you get me a towel or praskeen of some sort to wipe my face wid,” said her father, looking about for the article he wanted.