in the wurrld for both of us."

But the night before they left Ireland she sat by the little window in
her bed-room until daylight looking back through all the years of her
short life.

It seemed as if she were cutting off all that beautiful golden period.
She would never again know the free, careless, happy-go-lucky,
living-from-day-to-day existence, that she had loved so much.

It was a pale, wistful, tired little Peg that joined her father at
breakfast next morning.

His heart was heavy, too. But he laughed and joked and sang and said
how glad they ought to be--going to that wonderful new country, and by
the way the country Peg was born in, too! And then he laughed again and
said how FINE SHE looked and how WELL HE felt and that it seemed as if
it were God's hand in it all. And Peg pretended to cheer up, and they
acted their parts right to the end--until the last line of land
disappeared and they were headed for America. Then they separated and
went to their little cabins to think of all that had been. And every
day they kept up the little deception with each other until they
reached America.

They were cheerless days at first for O'Connell. Everything reminded
him of his first landing twenty years before with his young wife--both
so full of hope, with the future stretching out like some wonderful
panorama before them. He returns twenty years older to begin the fight
again--this time for his daughter.

His wife was buried at a little Catholic cemetery a few miles outside
New York City. There he took Peg one day and they put flowers on the
little mound of earth and knelt awhile in prayer. Beneath that earth
lay not only his wife's remains, but O'Connell's early hopes and
ambitions were buried with her.

Neither spoke either going to or returning from the cemetery.
O'Connell's heart was too full. Peg knew what was passing through his
mind and sat with her hands folded in her lap--silent. But her little
brain was busy thinking back.

Peg had much to think of during the early days following her arrival in
New York. At first the city awed her with its huge buildings and
ceaseless whirl of activity and noise. She longed to be back in her own
little green, beautiful country.

O'Connell was away during those first days until late apt night.

He found a school for Peg. She did not want to go to it, but just to
please her father she agreed. She lasted in it just one week. They
laughed at her brogue and teased and