out a bit of coal in my pocket. Look at all the danger we've been
in this night, and never the smallest thing happening to us."

And Eileen said, "Indeed, musha, 'tis well we're the good children!
Sure, the Good Little People would never at all let harm come to the
likes of us, just as Grannie said."

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE TWINS GET HOME.

When they were nearly home, the Twins saw a dark figure hurrying down
the road, and as it drew near, their Mother's voice called to them, "Is
it yourselves, Larry and Eileen, and whatever kept you till this hour?
Sure, you've had me distracted entirely with wondering what had become
of you at all! And your Dada sits in the room with a lip on him as long
as to-day and to-morrow!"

The Twins both began to talk at once. Their mother clapped her hands
over her ears.

"Can't you hold your tongues and speak quietly now--one at a time like
gentlemen and ladies?" she said. "Come in to your father and tell him
all about it."

The Twins each took one of her hands, and they all three hurried into
the house. They went into the kitchen. Their Father was sitting by the
chimney, with his feet up, smoking his pipe when they came in. He
brought his feet to the floor with a thump, and sat up straight in his
chair.

"Where have you been, you Spalpeens?" he said. "It's nine o'clock this
instant minute."

The Twins both began again to talk. Their Mother flew about the kitchen
to get them a bite of supper.

"Come now," said the Father, "I can't hear myself at all with the noise
of you. Do you tell the tale, Larry."

Then Larry told them about the cakeen, and the silk hat, and Michael
Malone, and the Tinkers, while his Mother said, "The Saints preserve
us!" every few words, and Eileen interrupted to tell how brave Larry had
been--"just like the good son in Grannie Malone's tale, for all the
world."

But when they came to the geese part of the story, the Father said,
"Blathers," and got up and hurried out to the place where the fowls were
kept, in the yard behind the house.

In a few minutes he came in again. "The geese are gone," he said, "and
that's the truth or I can't speak it!"

"Bad luck to the thieves, then," cried the Mother. "The back of my hand
to them! Sure, I saw a rough, scraggly man with a beard on him like a
rick of hay, come along this very afternoon, and I up the road talking
with Mrs Maguire! I never thought he'd make that bold, to carry off
geese in the b