anaghan. "Read it again, acushla."

The boy re-read the passage.

"Well, well, I wonder if Miss Kate will ever come back again," said she,
in a pause.

"To be sure she will," said Kerry; "what would hinder her? hasn't she
a fine fortune out of the property? ten thousand, I heerd the master
say."

"Ayeh! sure it's all gone many a day ago; the sorra taste of a brass
farthen's left for her or any one else. The master sould every stick an'
stone in the place, barrin' the house that's over us, and sure that's
all as one as sould too. Ah, then, Miss Kate was the purty child, and
had the coaxing ways with her."

"'Tis a pity to make her a nun," said Kerry.

"A pity! why would it be a pity, Kerry O'Leary?" said the old lady,
bristling up with anger. "Isn't the nuns happier, and dacenter, and
higher nor other women, with rapscallions for husbands, and villians
of all kinds for childher? Is it the likes of ye, or the crayture beside
ye, that would teach a colleen the way to heaven? Musha, but they have
the blessed times of it--fastin' and prayin', and doing all manner of
penance, and talking over their sins with holy men."

"Whisht! what's that? there's the bell ringing above stairs," said
Kerry, suddenly starting up and listening. "Ay, there it is again,"
and, so saying, he yawned and stretched himself, and after several
interjectional grumblings over the disturbance, slowly mounted the
stairs towards the parlour.

"Are ye sleepin' down there, ye lazy deevils?" cried Sir Archy from the
landing of the stairs. "Did ye no hear the bell?"

"'Tis now I heerd it," said Kerry composedly, for he never vouchsafed
the same degree of deference to Sir Archy, he yielded to the rest of the
family.

"Go see if there be any lemon's in the house, and lose no time about
it."

"Faix, I needn't go far then to find out," whined Kerry; "the
master had none for his punch these two nights; they put the little
box into a damp corner, and, sure enough, they had beards on them
like Jews, the same lemons, when they went to look for them."

"Go down then to the woman, M'Kelly's, in the glen, and see if she hae
na some there."

"Oh murther! murther!" muttered Kerry to himself, as the whistling storm
reminded him of the dreadful weather without doors. "'Tis no use in
going without the money," said he slyly, hoping that by this home-thrust
he might escape the errand. "Ye maun tell her to put it in the account,
man." "'Tis in bad company she'd