oments reflectively
ruffling up his flaxen hair with both hands, and then he said, "Have you
the big white hin yit that you got from me a while ago?"

"We have so bedad," said Mrs. Joyce, not loth to enlarge upon this
subject. "Sure we made a shift to bring a few of the best chickens we
had along wid us, and sorry we'd ha' been to lose her, and she a
won'erful layer, and after you a-givin' her to us in a prisint that
way."

"There was some talk that time," said Jerry, "about me and Bessy."

"Ay, true for you, there was," said Mrs. Joyce, in eager assent, "plinty
of talk." She would have added more, but he was evidently in a hurry to
speak again.

"Well, there's none now," he said. "Things is diff'rent altogether. If
I'd ha' known, I'd ha' kep' the hin. The fact of the matter is I'm about
gettin' married to Sally Coghlan, that's me poor uncle's wife's niece.
He's after leavin' her what he had saved up. She's a fine figure of a
girl as iver you saw, and as good as gould, and the bit of lan' and the
bit of money had a right to go the one way. So I was thinkin', Mrs.
Joyce, I might as well be takin' home the ould him wid me--things bein'
diff'rent now, and no talk of Bessy. Sally has a great wish for a white
hin, and we've ne'er a one of that sort at our place. I've brought a wad
of hay in the basket meself, for 'fraid yous might be short of it up
here." Jerry gave a kick to the basket, which betrayed the flimsy nature
of its contents by rolling over with a wobble on its side.

At this critical moment Mrs. Joyce's pride rallied loyally to the rescue
of her dignity and self-respect, proving as effectual as the ice-film
which keeps the bleakest pool unruffled by the wildest storm wing. With
the knell of all her hope clanging harshly in her ears, she smiled
serenely, and said gaily: "Ay bedad, himself was tellin' us somethin'
about it last night. Sure, I'm rael glad to hear tell of your good luck,
and I wish you joy of it. And will you be gettin' married agin
Shrovetide? Och, that's grand. But the white hin now--the on'y thing is
the crathur's been sittin' on a clutch of eggs since Monday week. So
what are we to do at all?"

"There's hapes of room for the whole of them in the basket, for that
matter," Jerry suggested promptly.

"Ah, sure, it's distroyed they'd be, jogglin' along, and the crathur
herself 'ud go distracted entirely; sorra a bit of good you'd get of
her. But look here, Mr. Dunne, I've got another out ther