hearth.

The town clock struck eight.

"What th' h--l's kapin' th' hussy!" Jamie said petulantly.

"Hugh's at a Fenian meeting more 'n likely an' it's worth a black eye
for th' wife t' handle money when he's gone," Anna suggested.

"More likely he's sleepin' off a dhrunk," he said.

"No, Jamie, he laves that t' the craithers who give 'im a livin'."

"Yer no judge o' human naiture, Anna. A squint out o' th' tail o' yer
eye at what McGuckin carries in front ov 'im wud tell ye betther if ye
had th' wits to obsarve."

Over the fire hung a pot on the chain and close to the turf coals sat
the kettle singing. Nothing of that far-off life has left a more
lasting impression than the singing of the kettle. It sang a dirge that
night, but it usually sang of hope. It was ever the harbinger of the
thing that was most indispensable in that home of want--a cup of tea.
Often it was tea without milk, sometimes without sugar, but always tea.
If it came to a choice between tea and bread, we went without bread.

Anna did not relish the reflection on her judgment and remained silent.

There was a loud noise at the door.

"Jazus!" Jamie exclaimed, "it's snowin'." Some one was kicking the snow
off against the door-post. The latch was lifted and in walked Felix
Boyle the bogman.

"What th' blazes are ye in th' dark fur?" Felix asked in a deep, hoarse
voice. His old rabbit-skin cap was pulled down over his ears, his head
and shoulders were covered with snow. As he shook it off we shivered.
We were in debt to Felix for a load of turf and we suspected he had
called for the money. Anna lit the candle she was saving for
supper-time. The bogman threw his cap and overcoat over in the corner on
the lasts and sat down.

"I'm frozen t' death!" he said as he proceeded to take off his brogues.
As he came up close to the coals, we were smitten with his foul breath
and in consequence gave him a wider berth. He had been drinking.

"Where's th' mare?" Anna asked.

"Gone home, th' bitch o' h--l," he said, "an' she's got m' load o' turf
wid 'er, bad cess t' 'er dhirty sowl!"

The town clock struck nine.

Felix removed his socks, pushed his stool aside and sat down on the mud
floor. A few minutes later he was flat on his back, fast asleep and
snoring loudly.

The fire grew smaller. Anna husbanded the diminishing embers by keeping
them closely together with the long tongs. The wind howled and
screamed. The window rattled, the door creaked on