Returning to her seat, she carefully spread out the
contents, counting the value of each crumpled bill as she laid it on
her knee.

"I'm not afeard o' old John Keene. There's sufficient to pay him his
interest, and plenty left to keep Mary O'Neil at the hospital for a
month or two," she muttered. She replaced the money with a sigh, but
it was of pleasure, for Nancy never felt a pang when she had a good
action to perform.

Next morning she sent Jennie over for Father Doyle, the parish priest.
The good man was always pleased to call on Nancy, because she was a
life-long friend, and her solid common-sense often helped him over the
many difficulties which were continually cropping up in his work.

"It's something that has to be done at once, Father Doyle, and I think
it lies with me to do it," she said, after they had gossiped awhile.

"I've known Mary O'Neil since she was the size o' my Katie, and many a
day have I watched her and my boy Corney, as they played, before
McVeigh was taken. It's no fault o' hers that their cupboard is empty,
and it's something I can do that will not lose its value because of the
habits o' the husband. But ye must arrange a compact with Bennet not
to take another drop if I help him. He loves his wife and would be a
good man to her if he could control his appetite."

"But ye will be damaging your trade with your precious sentiments,"
Father Doyle remarked, to test, in a joking way, the principles of his
charitable parishioner.

"I'm no excusin' my business, Father Doyle, and ye've known me long
enough to leave off askin' me such questions. I have never taken the
bread out o' a livin' creature's mouth yet, to my knowledge, and
another might run a much, rougher house, should I give it up."

"It's only a joke, I'm telling you," put in the priest, hastily; then
he added, kindly, "You are a strange woman, Nancy McVeigh, and the road
is no longer for your open doorway and the free pump. I have a mind to
put in half of the amount with you in this case, though it is only one
of many that I would do something to help if I could."

"Thank ye, Father Doyle. Ye have a keen understandin' o' what is good
yerself; but ye'll be sure to name the compact with Bennet," cautioned
Nancy, as she counted out fifty dollars from her assortment of bills.

"That I will," he answered.

The priest immediately went over to the Bennet place, and called the
husband aside before mentioning his errand. He had