e at last!" he exclaimed, as, without ceremony, he burst
into the room. "This tells the story. It's not that ye are ill in bed,
or hindered by the rain, or the could; it's because ye are heretics
all, that ye shun the confession and the holy mass. Do ye know what
the Church has power to do wi' the like o' ye? Arrah! it was the
heavenly and not the mortal wisdom that made the hot fires o'
purgatory for such. Small help will ye get from me when the flames are
scorching ye. Never a mass shall be said for a sowl o' ye, unless ye
repent at once."

"And what call have ye to spake the like o' that," said Biddy, "and me
sitting peaceably by me own fire wi' the neighbours?" She spoke in a
low, uncertain tone, for his sudden appearance had startled her. A
hush had fallen on the little assembly, and signs of terror flitted
across the faces of the most timid, as the familiar voice of the
priest recalled their old Popish fears. He was not slow to perceive
this, or to take advantage of it.

"And who taught yer lame boy to read at all? Who brought the heretic
Bible into yer house? And who gathered the poor neighbours together to
hear the false words that lead to perdition? Answer me that, Misthress
Dillon," said the priest in a tone of anger.

Biddy did not reply, though she had quite regained her usual courage.

"I'll ask ye a plain question, Biddy Dillon, and I want a straight
answer. Will ye, or will ye not, give up these heretic doings, and
stay in the communion o' the holy Church?"

"An' it plaze yer riverence," replied Biddy, no ways disconcerted,
"yer blessed saints are nothing to me; an' I shall do as I plaze."

"Hear the woman! Do you hear the bould blasphemer?" he exclaimed.

"An' what if they do hear? It were a sore pity they should be sthruck
deaf to plaze ye," replied Biddy, her eyes flashing with excitement.
"I would ye were in ould Ireland, or, for the matther o' that, in
purgatory itself."

"We would--" said the priest.

"No doubt o' it. But it's here I am, at yer service," interrupted
Biddy.

"Yes, and it's here ye've been bought for a wee pinch o' tae and a few
poor, lean chickens. Sowl and body ye've been bought, and a mighty
poor bargain have the blind purchasers made o' it."

"Plazing yer riverence, ye know nought o' what ye are saying, and
small throuble ye'll make wi' yer idle words. It's not a turkey, duck,
or hen could buy Biddy Dillon. Ye've tried it yerself, father, and so
ye know."

"It's a