' says she, 'this leaves me well, thanks be to God. I 'm doing
the roaring trade with me cakes; all Ryan's little boys is selling on
the trains. I took one pound three the first day: 't was a great
excursion train got stuck fast and they 'd a hot box on a wheel keeping
them an hour and two more trains stopping for them; 't would be a very
pleasant day in the old country that anybody 'd take a pound and three
shillings. Dear Uncle Patsy, I want a whole half-barrel of that same
flour and ten pounds of sugar, and I 'll pay it back on Sunday. I sind
respects and duty to Aunty Bridget and all friends; this l'aves me in
great haste. I wrote me dear mother last night and sint her me first
pound, God bless her.'"

"Look at that for you now!" exclaimed Mike Duffy. "Did n't I tell
every one here she was fine an' smart?"

"She 'll be soon Prisident of the Road," announced Aunt Mary Ann, who,
having been energetic herself, was pleased to recognize the same
quality in others.

"She don't be so afraid of the worruk as the worruk's afraid of her,"
said Aunt Bridget admiringly. "She 'll have her fling for a while and
be glad to go in and get a good chance in the mill, and be kaping her
plants in the weave-room windows this winter with the rest of the
girls. Come, tell us all about Elleneen and the baby. I ain't heard a
word about Lawrence yet," she added politely.

"Ellen's doing fine, an' it's a pritty baby. She's got a good husband,
too, that l'aves her her own way and the keep of his money every
Saturday night," said Mary Ann; and the little company proceeded to the
discussion of a new and hardly less interesting subject. But before
they parted, they spoke again of Nora.

"She's a fine, crabbed little gerrl, that little Nora," said Mr.
Michael Duffy.

"Thank God, none o' me childre' is red-headed on me; they're no more to
be let an' held than a flick o' fire," said Aunt Mary Ann. "Who 'd
ever take the notion to be setting up business out there on the Birchy
Plains?"

"Ryan's folks 'll look after her, sure, the same as ourselves,"
insisted Uncle Patsy hopefully, as he lighted his pipe again. It was
like a summer night; the kitchen windows were all open, the month of
May was nearly at an end, and there was a sober croaking of frogs in
the low fields that lay beyond the village.

III.

"Where's Nora?" Young Johnny O'Callahan was asking the question; the
express had stopped for water, and he seemed to be th