g crept out once when the storm had cleared and the sky was bright
with stars. Her father did not hear her. His thoughts were bridging
over the years and once more Angela was beside him.

Peg touched him timidly and peered up into his face. She thought his
cheeks were wet. But that could not be. She had never seen her father
cry.

"What are ye thinkin' about, father?" she whispered. His voice broke.
He did not want her to see his emotion. He answered with a half-laugh,
half-sob:

"Thinkin' about, is it? It's ashamed I am of ye to be frightened by a
few little flashes of lightnin' and the beautiful, grand thundher that
always kapes it company. It's ashamed I am of ye--that's what I am!" He
spoke almost roughly to hide his emotion and he furtively wiped the
tears from his face so that she should not see them.

"It's not the lightnin' I'm afraid of, father," said Peg solemnly.
"It's the thundher. It shrivels me up, that's what it does."

"The thundher, is it? Sure that's only the bluff the storm puts up when
the rale harm is done by the lightnin's flash. There is no harm in the
thundher at all. And remember, after all, it's the will of God."

Peg thought a moment:

"It always sounds just as if He were lookin' down at us and firin' off
cannons at us because He's angry with us."

O'Connell said nothing. Presently he felt her small hand creep into his:

"Father," said Peg; "are yez ralely ashamed of me when I'm frightened
like that?"

O'Connell was afraid to unbend lest he broke down altogether. So he
continued in a voice of mock severity:

"I am that--when ye cry and moan about what God has been good enough to
send us."

"Is it a coward I am for bein' afraid, father?" said Peg, her lips
quivering.

"That's what ye are, Peg," replied O'Connell with Spartan severity.

"Then I'll never be one again, father! Never again," and her eyes
filled up.

He suddenly took her in his arms and pressed her to him and rocked her
as though she were still a baby, and his voice trembled and was full of
pity as he said:

"Ye can't help it, acushla. Ye can't help it. Ye're NOT a coward, my
own brave little Peg. It's yer mother in ye. She could never bear a
thunder-storm without fear, and she was the bravest woman that ever
lived Bad luck to me for sayin' a cross word to ye."

Suddenly poor little Peg burst out crying and buried her face on her
father's breast and sobbed and sobbed as though her heart would break.

"Ssh! Ss