ent woman it ought to be with a clane
face at any rate."

"Why, Vread, how can you say it's dirty," replied the fellow, "when you
know I washed it before I came out?"

"It must be in the divil's basin, then," she replied, "for if one can
judge by their eyes, you're more like one of his childre than your
honest father's, whoever he was or is. Troth, I'm afeard it's a dirty
business you're; all about to-night, if a body is to take you by your
looks."

"Why, then," observed another, "who 'ud think that poor die-away Vread
had so much spunk in her? Vread," he proceeded, "you must a been a great
beauty wanst upon a time; a very purty face you had, they say."

"Whatever it was," she replied, "I thank God I was never ashamed to show
it like too many of my neighbors."

"Don't be too sure that we're your neighbors, Vread."

"Troth, I hope not," she returned; "I don't think my neighbors 'ud be
consarned in sich disgraceful work, as I'm afraid brings yez out. Faugh
upon you all! its unmanly."

Her husband, accompanied by six or eight more, now made his appearance;
a circumstance which at once put an end to the part that his wife was
disposed to bear in their conversation.

Other chat of various character then took place, in which, however,
M'Carthy, who now watched them closely, could observe that they did not
all join.

"Whisht," said one of them, "is there anybody asleep in the house? I
think I hear some one snorin!"

"There is," said Finnerty, "a gentleman that was out shootin' to-day wid
a servant-man of Mr. Parcel's the procthor--named Mogue Moylan."

"And a very great scoundrel is Mogue Moylan," said one of them, with a
wink at the rest.

"Well, no," said Finnerty, "I think not--poor Mogue's a daecnt, quiet
crature, and has a great regard for truth and religion."

M'Carthy, from his position the bed, had, by means of a fortunate rift
in the blankets, a complete view of the whole party, and he could mark
with accuracy, in consequence of their black faces, every grin now made
distinctly visible by their white teeth.

"Who is the gentleman that snores so beautifully?" asked another of
them.

"He is a gentleman named O'Connor," replied poor Vread, anxious, if
possible, even at the risk of much subsequent abuse and ill-treatment,
to conceal his name.

"Ay," said Finnerty, corroborating her; much, indeed, to her
astonishment, "he is a Mr. O'Connor, I believe, a very handsome-lookin',
fine young fellow."

"W