x from his fireside
corner; "and wudn't you be steppin' widin?"

"I'm on'y axin' me way to the place below there--Ballybrosna beyond
Duffclane," said the old man; "it's the road I must be steppin', for I'm
more than a thrifle late."

But he came slowly forward into the room as if lured by the fire, at
which he looked hungrily. He stooped and limped very much, and when he
took off his black caubeen, the sharp gleam of his white hair seemed to
comment coldly on those infirmities.

"I'm widin a mile or so of it, or maybe less, by now, I should suppose,"
he said.

"Faix, then, it's the long mile," said the fiddler. "Put half a dozen to
it, and you'll be nearer; and bedad it's aisier work doin' that in your
head than on your feet. Be the same token I must be leggin' it, or
they'll consait I'm lost at our place." And he stepped out darkly into
the veiled moonlight.

"Wirrasthrew and weary on it," the old man said to himself; and then to
the others, "Is it that far as he says?"

"Ay is it, every inch," said old O'Beirne. "And too long a thramp for
you altogether, sir, if I might make so free."

"For the matther of that," said the ragged old man, proudly, "I've
walked the double of it, and more, times and agin, widout so much as
considherin'. But your road's a bit heavy to-night, wid the snow--and
could."

"That's the worst of the roads," said the little old woman, peering
suddenly out of her corner; "the longer you walk them, the longer
they'll grow on you, till you begin to think there's no ind to them. And
after that, the best conthrivance is to keep off of them clivir and
clane, the way I do. Then they're no len'th at all."

"Ah, ma'am, but 'twouldn't be very handy if the young folk took to
thryin' that plan," the old man said. "_We_'re bound to keep steppin'
out."

A short silence followed this remark, because the hearers felt uncertain
whether he meant the pronoun for a jest. To evade the difficulty, old
O'Beirne bade Dan fetch a mug for a drop of poteen, and meanwhile said
to the stranger:

"Sit you down, sir, and take a taste of the fire. Where might you be
thravellin' from this day?"

"I was livin' over at Innislone," said the old man, sitting down on a
creepy stool.

"Musha, then, you didn't ever come that far all on ind--sure it's miles
untould."

"'Twas the day afore yisterday I quit. Last night I slep' at Sallinbeg,
and this mornin' I met a man who loaned me a grand lift in his cart."

"I used