gue and her eye. At first there had been a timid shrinking,
but soon her father and herself were brighter and better for the old
Irishwoman's presence, and she began to take comfort in Mrs. Flynn.

Mrs. Flynn gave hopefulness to whatever life she touched, and Rosalie,
buoyant and hopeful enough by nature, responded to the living warmth and
the religion of life in the Irishwoman's heart.

"'Tis worth the doin', ivery bit of it, darlin', the bither an' the
swate, the hard an' the aisy, the rough an' the smooth, the good an' the
bad," said Mrs. Flynn to her this very Easter morning. "Even the avil
is worth doin', if so be 'twas not mint, an' the good is in yer heart in
the ind, an' ye do be turnip' to the Almoighty, repentin' an' glad to
be aloive: provin' to Him 'twas worth while makin' the world an' you, to
want, an' worry, an' work, an' play, an' pick the flowers, an' bleed o'
the thorns, an' dhrink the sun, an' ate the dust, an' be lovin' all the
way! Ah, that's it, darlin'," persisted Mrs. Flynn, "'tis lovin' all the
way makes it aisier. There's manny kinds o' love. There's lad an'
lass, there's maid an' man. An' that last is spring, an' all the birds
singin', an' shtorms now an' thin, an' siparations, an' misthrust, an'
God in hivin bein' that aisy wid ye for bein' fools an' children, an'
bringin' ye thegither in the ind, if so be ye do be lovin' as man an'
maid should love, wid all yer heart. Thin there's the love o' man an'
wife. Shure, that's the love that lasts, if it shtarts right. Shure,
it doesn't always shtart wid the sun shinin.' 'Will ye marry me?' says
Teddy Flynn to me. 'I will,' says I. 'Then I'll come back from Canaday
to futch ye,' says he, wid a tear in his eye.

"'For what's a man in ould Ireland that has a head for annything but
puttaties! There's land free in Canaday, an' I'm goin' to make a home
for ye, Mary,' says he, wavin' a piece of paper in the air. 'Are ye,
thin?' says I. He goes away that night, an' the next mornin' I have a
lether from him, sayin' he's shtartin' that day for Canaday. He hadn't
the heart to tell me to me face. Fwaht do I do thin? I begs, borrers,
an' stales, an' I reached that ship wan minnit before she sailed. There
was no praste aboord, but we was married six weeks afther at Quebec. And
thegither we lived wid ups an' downs--but no ups an' downs to the love
of us for twenty years, blessed be God for all His mercies!"

Rosalie had listened with eyes that hungrily watched