“I have not, ma’am,” said Mrs. Haley.

“Had you not better take some friend with you who has been there before, lest you should get lost?”

“Faith, I had, ma’am:  I had a right to have moor sinse an’ think o’ that.”

So Mrs. Haley departed, returning again in company with Mary Magovern:  “Here’s Mary Magovern, ma’am:  she’s goin’ along wid me.”

“Ah, that’s very well.—­You know the city, Mary? you’ve been there?”

“I have not, ma’am.”

“Why, what, then, is the use of your going with Mrs. Haley?”

“We’ll make a shtrict inquiry, ma’am.”

The next morning they started, and at four o’clock Old Haley came in much anxiety of mind to seek comfort of my mother:  “Maggie’s not come, ma’am.  Faith, I’m throubled, for the city is a quare place.”

When it grew late Haley returned again and again, in ever-increasing anxiety, to be reassured.  At last, when the family were retiring to bed, came Mrs. Haley and Mrs. Magovern to report their arrival.  In spite of the lateness of the hour my mother received them, and in spite of their wearied and worn faces administered a gentle rebuke for the anxiety that Mrs. Haley had caused her spouse.

“Well, indade it’s no wonder he was throubled,” said Mrs. Haley, “an’ it’s a wonder we got here at all.  We got nothing at the Washington Market, for we couldn’t find it at all:  I think they tuk it away to Washington.  It was in the mornin’ airly that we got to the city, ma’am, an’ there was a koind of a carr, an’ a gintleman up on the top of it, an’ anuther gintleman at the dure of it, wid the dure in his hand, an’ he sez, sez he, ‘Git in, ladies,’ sez he.—­’We’re goin’ to the Washington Market, sur,’ sez I.—­That’s where I’ll take yez, ladies,’ sez he.  ‘Pay yer fares, ladies.’  An’ we got in, ma’am, an’ wint up to the top of the city, an’ paid tin cints, the both of us.  An’ there was a great many ladies an’ gintlemen got in an’ done the same, ma’am, an’ some got out one place an’ some another.  An’ whin we got up to the top of the city, ‘Mrs. Magovern,’ sez I,’ this isn’t the Washington Market,’ sez I.—­’ It is not, Mrs. Haley,’ sez she.—­’We’ll git out, Mrs. Magovern,’ sez I.—­’We will, Mrs. Haley,’ sez she.  An’ thin, ma’am, there was a small bit of a howl in the carr, and it was through the howl the ladies an’ gintlemen would cry out to the gintleman on the top o’ the carr, and he’d put his face down forninst it an’ spake wid thim; an’ I cried up through the howl to him, an’ sez I, ‘Me an’ Mrs. Magovern will git out, sur,’ sez I, ’for this isn’t the Washington Market at all.’—­’It is not, ma’am,’ sez he, ‘but that’s where I’ll take yez,’ sez he.  ‘Sit down, ladies,’ sez he, ‘and pay me the money,’ sez he.  ’I had a great many paple to lave,’ sez he.  An’ indade he had, ma’am.  An’ we paid the money agin, an’ we wint down to the bottom o’ the city.  ’This is not the Washington Market, Mrs. Magovern,’ sez I.—­’It is not, Mrs. Haley,’