eed, an' I was sorry to hear it."

"A hundre' an' fifty pounds is a terrible loss to anybody in such
times."

"A hundre' an' fifty!" exclaimed M'Mahon--"hut, tut!--no; I thought it
was only seventy or eighty. He did not lose so much, did he?"

"So I'm tould."

"It was two--um--it was two--urn--urn--it was--um--um--it was two
hundre' itself," observed Cavanagh, after he had finished a portion of
the operation, and given himself an opportunity of speaking--"it war
two hundre' itself, I'm tould, an' that's too much, by a hundre' and
ninety-nine pounds nineteen shillings an' eleven pence three fardens, to
be robbed of."

"Troth it is, Gerald," replied M'Mahon; "but any way there's nothin'
but thievin' and robbin' goin'. You didn't hear that we came in for a
visit?"

"You!" exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--"is it robbed? My goodness, no!"

"Why," he proceeded, "we'll be able to get over it afore we die, I hope.
On ere last night we had two of our fattest geese stolen."

"Two!" exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--"an' at this saison of the! year, too.
Well, that same's a loss."

"Honest woman," said M'Mahon, addressing Kate Hogan, "maybe you'd give
me a draw o' the pipe?"

"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 i