rather refreshing after the restrictions
under which she was placed at home.

"Well now," said Donnelly, "I'd ha' bet me best brogues I seen that chap
a couple of nights ago streelin' along the road down about our place;
but 'twas darkish enough, and I might aisy be mistook."

The widow pondered much over this statement on her homeward way, but had
the forbearance to say nothing about it. She was still undecided whether
or no she would communicate it to anybody, when, next morning, on her
way for a can of water, she saw the black cat, unmistakable this time,
run across the road, and, as on the day before, make off over the bog
towards the little river. Widow M'Gurk stood staring after it for a few
minutes, and came to a resolution. Then she looked about her, and was
aware of Andy Sheridan's head leaning against his doorpost. Of Andy her
opinion was, as we have seen, rather low, but she could descry no other
person available for her purpose, so she called to him: "Andy, lad, I'm
goin' after me two pullets that's strayed on me; come and be givin' me a
hand." Andy lounged over to her goodnaturedly, and they turned into the
bog, where Ody Rafferty presently joined them. The widow thought her
fowl might be among the broken ground, where the stream runs at the back
of the Knockawn, and the three went in that direction. It was a mild
soft grey morning, and they met with neither stir nor sound, till they
came abruptly upon a grassy hollow, shut in by furzy banks, and fronted
by the running water, and then the widow, who alone had been expecting
the unexpected, uttered a suppressed screech, and said: "Och, boys dear,
goodness gracious guide us!"

What they saw was the figure of a man in a long great-coat, "crooched
all of a hape" under the bank. Near him were ranged in a row half a
dozen oranges, strikin' up a wonderful golden glow. A small grimy scrap
of paper was spread out near them, covered with several piles of
shillings and pennies, and a silver thimble. Beside these Tib the black
cat sat severely tucked up, apparently dissatisfied, and irked by the
situation. At the widow's exclamation the man raised his head, and was
seen to be Tom Patman, looking haggard and dazed, and as hollow-eyed as
little Katty herself. Widow M'Gurk and Ody and Andy stood in a line
facing him.

"Whethen now, Tom Patman," said Ody, "and what might _you_ be doin' wid
yourself?"

"I'm sittin' here," said Tom.

"Och musha, tell us somethin' we d