rom
the corner of her mouth--"they do; and if they never did worse than
extarminate such varmin, their sowls would have an easier time of it."

Kerry's brow lowered, and his lips muttered; but no distinct reply was
audible.

"Sorra bit of good I see in ye at all," said she, with inexorable
severity. "I mind the time ye used to tell a body what was doing above
stairs; and, though half what ye said was lies, it was better than
nothing: but now yer as stupid and lazy as the ould beast there fornint
the fire--not a word out of yer head from morning to night. Ayeh, is it
your hearin's failin' ye?"

"I wish to the Blessed Mother it was," muttered he fervently to himself.

"There's a man now eatin' and drinkin' in the parlour, and the sorra
more ye know about him, than if he was the Queen of Sheba."

"Don't I, thin--maybe not," said Kerry, tauntingly, and with a look of
such well-affected secrecy, that Mrs. Branagan was completely deceived
by it.

"What is he, then? spake it out free this minit," said she. "Bad cess to
you, do you want to trate me like an informer."

"No, indeed, Mrs. Branagan; its not that same I'd even to you--sure I
knew your people--father and mother's side--two generations back. Miles
Buoy--yallow Miles, as they called him--was the finest judge of a horse
in Kerry--I wonder now he didn't make a power of money."

"And so he did, and spint it after. 'Twas blackguards, with ould
gaiters, and one spur on them, that ate up every shilling he saved."

"Well, well! think of that, now," said Kerry, with the sententious-ness
of one revolving some strange and curious social anomaly; "and that's
the way it wint."

"Wasn't it a likely way enough," said Mrs. Branagan, with flashing eyes,
"feedin' a set of spalpeens that thought of nothing but chating the
world. The sight of a pair of top hoots gives me the heartburn to this
day."

"Mine warms to them, too," said Kerry, timidly, who ventured on his
humble pun with deep humility.

A contemptuous scowl was Mrs. Branagan's reply, and Kerry resumed.

"Them's the changes of world--rich yesterday--poor to-day! Don't I know
what poverty is well myself. Augh! sure enough they wor the fine times,
when I rode out on a beast worth eighty guineas in goold, wid clothes on
my back a lord might envy; and now, look at me!"

Mrs. Branagan, to whom the rhetorical figure seemed a direct appeal, did
look; and assuredly the inspection conveyed nothing flattering, for
she t