“Simply, father, because I don’t wish to receive any messages at all from him.”

“But your mother an’ I is of a different opinion, Kathleen.  We wish you to resave messages from him; an’ you know you’re bound both by the laws of God an’ man to obey us an’ be guided by us.”

“I know I am, father,” she replied; “an’ I hope I haven’t been an undutiful child to either of you for so far.”

“That’s true, Kathleen—­God sees it’s truth itself.”

“What message do you expect to bring back, Nanny?” said the mother, addressing the girl.

“An answer,” replied the girl, seeing that everything must be and was above board—­“an answer to the letther he sent her.”

“Did he send you a letther?” asked her father, seriously; “an’ you never let us know a word about it?—­did he send you a letther?”

Kathleen paused a moment and seemed to consult Hanna’s looks, who had now joined them.  At length she replied, slowly, and as if in doubt whether she ought to speak in the affirmative or not—­“no, he sent me no letter.”

“Well now, take care, Kathleen,” said her mother; “I seen a letther in your hands this very mornin’.”

Kathleen blushed deeply; but as if anxious to give the conversation another turn, and so to relieve herself, she replied, “I can’t prevent you, mother, or my father either, from sending back whatever answer you wish; but this I say that, except the one I gave already, Hycy Burke will never receive any message or any answer to a message from me; an’ now for the present let us drop it.”

“Very well,” said her mother; “in the mane time, my good girsha, sit down.  Is it thrue that Jemmy Burke’s house was robbed a couple o’ nights ago?”

“True enough,” said the girl.

“And how much did he lose?” asked M’Mahon; “for there’s disputes about it—­some say more and some say less.”

“Between seventy and eighty pounds,” replied Nanny; “the masther isn’t sure to a pound or so; but he knows it was near eighty, any way.”

“That’s just like him,” said Cavanagh; “his careless way of managin’.  Many a time I wondher at him;—­he slobbers everything about that you’d think he’d beggar himself, an’ yet the luck and prosperity flows to him.  I declare to my goodness I think the very dirt under his feet turns to money.  Well, girsha, an’ have they any suspicion of the robbers?”

“Why,” said the girl, “they talk about”—­she paused, and it was quite evident from her manner that she felt not only embarrassed, but distressed by the question.  Indeed this was no matter of surprise; for ever since the subject was alluded to, Kate Hogan’s black piercing eyes had not once been removed from hers, nor did the girl utter a single word in reply to the questions asked of her without first, as it were, consulting Kate’s looks.

A moment’s reflection made Cavanagh feel that the question must be a painful one to the girl, not only on her own account, but on that of Kate herself; for even then it was pretty well known that Burke’s family entertained the strongest suspicion that the burglary had been committed by these notorious vagabonds.