pulled him down a bit. He's not so rich now, they say, as
he was three or four years ago."

"He's rich enough still," observed his father; "but at any rate, upon
my sowl I'm sorry for him; he's the crame of an honest, kind-hearted
neighbor; an' I believe in my conscience if there's a man alive that
hasn't an ill-wisher, he is."

"Is it known who robbed him?" asked the grandfather, "or does he suspect
anybody?"

"It's not known, of course, grandfather," replied Bryan, "or I suppose
they would be in limbo before now; but there's quare talk about it. The
Hogans is suspected, it seems. Philip was caught examinin' the hall-door
the night before; an' that does look suspicious."

"Ay," said the old man, "an' very likely they're the men. I remember
them this many a long day; it's forty years since Andy Hogan--he was
lame--Andy Boccah they called him--was hanged for the murdher of your
great-granduncle, Billy Shevlin, of Frughmore, so that they don't like
a bone in our bodies. That was the only murdher I remember of them, but
many a robbery was laid to their charge; an' every now and then
there was always sure to be an odd one transported for thievin', an'
house-breakin', and sich villainy."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Mrs. M'Mahon, "but it was some o' them
tuck our two brave geese the night before last."

"Very likely, in throth, Bridget," said her husband; "however, as the
ould proverb has it, 'honesty's the best policy.' Let them see which of
us I'll be the best off at the end of the year."

"There's an odd whisper here an' there about another robber," continued
Bryan; "but I don't believe a word about it. No, no;--he's wild, and not
scrupulous in many things, but I always thought him generous, an' indeed
rather careless about money."

"You mane the sportheen?" said his brother Art.

"The Hogans," said the old man, recurring to the subject, as associated
with them, "would rob anybody barrin' the Cavanaghs; but I won't listen
to it, Bryan, that Hycy Burke, or the son of any honest man that ever
had an opportunity of hearin' the Word o' God, or livin' in a Christian
counthry, could ever think of robbin' his own father--his own father! I
won't listen to that."

"No, nor I, grandfather," said Bryan, "putting everything else out of
the question, its too unnatural an act. What makes you shake your head,
Art?"

"I never liked a bone in his body, somehow," replied Art.

"Ay, but my goodness, Art," said Dora, "sur