lf, an' they 're all here in the mills, goin'
home Saturday nights, 'less there's some show or some dance. There's
no money out there.' She laughed then an' wint back to the door, and
in come Mickey Dunn from McLoughlin's store, lugging the size of
himself of bundles. 'What's all this?' says I; ''t ain't here they
belong; I bought nothing to-day.' 'Don't be scolding!' says she, and
Mickey got out of it laughing. 'I 'm going to be cooking for meself in
the morning!' says she, with her head on one side, like a cock-sparrow.
'You lind me the price o' the fire and I'll pay you in cakes,' says
she, and off she wint then to bed. 'T was before day I heard her at
the stove, and I smelt a baking that made me want to go find it, and
when I come out in the kitchen she 'd the table covered with her
cakeens, large and small. 'What's all this whillalu, me topknot-hin?'
says I. 'Ate that,' says she, and hopped back to the oven-door. Her
aunt come out then, scolding fine, and whin she saw the great baking
she dropped down in a chair like she'd faint and her breath all gone.
'We 'ont ate them in ten days,' says she; 'no, not till the blue mould
has struck them all, God help us!' says she. 'Don't bother me,' says
Nora; 'I 'm goin' off with them all on the nine. Uncle Patsy 'll help
me wit' me basket.'

"'Uncle Patsy 'ont now,' says Bridget. Faix, I thought she was up with
one o' them t'ree days' scolds she 'd have when she was young and the
childre' all the one size. You could hear the bawls of her a mile away.

"'Whishper, dear,' says Nora; 'I don't want to be livin' on anny of me
folks, and Johnny O'Callahan said all the b'ys was wishing there was
somebody would kape a clane little place out there at Birch
Plains,--with something to ate and the like of a cup of tay. He says
'tis a good little chance; them big trains does all be waiting there
tin minutes and fifteen minutes at a time, and everybody's hungry. "I
'll thry me luck for a couple o' days," says I; "'tis no harm, an' I've
tin shillings o' me own that Father Daley gave me wit' a grand blessing
and I l'aving home behind me."'"

"'What tark you have of Johnny O'Callahan,' says I.

"Look at this now!" continued the proud uncle, while Aunt Biddy sat
triumphantly watching the astonished audience; "'t is a letter I got
from the shild last Friday night," and he brought up a small piece of
paper from his coat-pocket. "She writes a good hand, too. 'Dear Uncle
Patsy,