The strange female was evidently much struck with the appearance and singularly artless disposition of Sarah, as well as with her extraordinary candor; and indeed no wonder; for as this neglected creature spoke, especially with reference to her mother, her eyes flashed and softened with an expression of brilliancy and tenderness that might be said to resemble the sky at night, when the glowing corruscations of the Aurora Borealis sweep over it like expanses of lightning, or fade away into those dim but graceful undulations which fill the mind with a sense of such softness and beauty.

“I don’t know,” observed her companion, sighing and looking at her affectionately, “how any step-mother could be harsh to you.”

“Ha! ha! ha! don’t you, indeed?  Faix, then, if you had me, maybe you wouldn’t think so—­I’m nothin’ but a born divil when the fit’s on me.”

“Charley Hanlon,” proceeded the strange woman, “bid me ax you for the ould tobaccy-box you promised him last night.”

“Well, but he promised me a handkerchy; have you got it?”

“I have,” replied the other, producing it; “but, then, I’m not to give it to you, unless you give me the box for it.”

“But I haven’t the box now,” said Sarah, “how-and-ever, I’ll get it for him.”

“Are you sure that you can an’ will?” inquired the other.

“I had it in my hand yesterday,” she said, “an’ if it’s to be had I’ll get it.”

“Well, then,” observed the other mildly, “as soon as you get him the box, he’ll give you this handkerchy, but not till then.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed, kindling, “is that his bargain; does he think I’d thrick him or cheat him?—­hand it here.”

“I can’t,” replied the other; “I’m only to give it to you when I get the box.”

“Hand it here, I say,” returned Sarah, whose eyes flashed in a moment; “it’s Peggy Murray’s rag, I suppose—­hand it here, I bid you.”

The woman shook her head and replied, “I can’t—­not till you get the box.”

Sarah replied not a word, but sprang at it, and in a minute had it in her hands.

“I would tear it this minute into ribbons,” she exclaimed, with eyes of fire and glowing cheeks, “and tramp it undher my feet too; only that I want it to show her, that I may have the advantage over her.”

There was a sharp, fierce smile of triumph on her features as she spoke; and altogether her face sparkled with singular animation and beauty.

“God bless me!” said the strange woman, looking at her with a wondering yet serious expression of countenance; “I wanst knew a face like yours, an’ a temper the aiquil of it—­at any rate, my good girl, you don’t pay much respect to a stranger.  Is your stepmother at home?”

“She is not, but my father is; however, I don’t think he’ll see you now.  My stepmother’s gone to Darby Skinadre, the meal-monger’s.”

“I’m goin’ there.”

“An’ if you see her,” replied the other, “you’ll know her; a score on her cheek—­ha, ha, ha; an’ when you see it, maybe you’ll thank God that I am not your step-daughter.”