nd what red, red cheeks, just like a June rose!"

It is the only daughter of the house, so the mother is of course
inordinately proud of it. She places it, with quite a little flourish of
triumph, in Monica's arms, to Kit's terrible but unspoken
disappointment.

"She grows prettier every day. She is really the sweetest baby I ever
saw in my life!" says Monica, enthusiastically, to whom babies are an
endless joy.

The mother is pleased beyond doubt at these compliments, yet a shade of
anxiety crosses her brow. To praise a child _too_ much in the
superstition of these simple folks, is to "overlook" it; and when a
child is "overlooked" it dies. The smiles fades from Mrs. Daly's bonny
face, and her mouth grows anxious.

"You should say, 'God bless her,' miss, when ye give her the good word,"
says Mrs. Moloney, timidly, who is also bending over the beloved bundle,
and notes the distress in her neighbor's eyes.

"God bless her!" says Monica with pretty solemnity, after which the
mother's face clears, and sunshine is again restored to it.

"I think she knows ye," she says to Monica. "See how she blinks at ye!
Arrah! look, now, how she clutches at yer hand! Will ye come to yer
mother now, darlin',--will ye? Sure 'tis starvin' ye must be, by this."

"Oh! don't take her yet," says Monica, entreatingly.

A little figure with naked legs and feet, creeping into the doorway at
this moment, draws near the baby as if fascinated. It is Paudheen, the
eldest son of the house, and baby's _nurse_,--save the mark!

"Come nearer, Paddy," says Monica, smiling at him with sweet
encouragement; but Paddy stops short and regards her doubtfully.

"Come, then, and kiss your little sister," continues Monica, gently; but
Paddy is still obdurate, and declines to hearken to the charmer, charm
she never so wisely. There is, indeed, a sad lack both of sweetness and
light about Paddy.

"An' what d'ye mane be standin' there, an' niver a word out o' ye in
answer to the lady, ye ill-mannered caubogue?" cries his mother, deeply
incensed. The laughter is all gone from her face, and her eyes are
aflame. "What brought ye in at all, ye ugly spalpeen, if ye came without
a civil tongue in yer head?"

"I came to see the baby an' to get me dinner," says the boy, with
hanging head, his silence arising more from shyness than sullenness. The
potatoes have just been lifted from the fire by Mrs. Moloney, and are
steaming in a distant corner. Paudheen looks wi