, "for I'd niver, niver forget it."

"Andy's ready waitin' for ye, Mick," said Lull at the door.

When they came home from the funeral Mick was ill, and had to be put to
bed. Jane came up to his room, and sat with him. "Do ye mind what
Uncle Niel said to us in the loney?" she said. "Well, he couldn't come
as far as this to tell us, so he went an' tould Aunt Mary; Teressa says
it was his ghost come back to her."

"To tell us what?" said Mick feverishly.

"That it was wan of them _Things_ done it."

"I thought ye meant about forgivin'," said Mick. "Mebby it was that;
don't ye think it might 'a' been, Janie?" His voice was very eager.

"I niver thought a' that," said Jane; "but Uncle Niel was quare an'
good. I believe he'd even forgive a buddy for murderin' him."

Mick lay down with a sigh of relief. "I thought that myself," he said.

It was not till the primroses were out that the children went to the
farm again. Half way down the loney there was a rough cross scratched
on a stone in the wall, and the words: Niel Darragh. R.I.P. Aunt Mary
had been ill all winter, and at first they did not know her, for her
hair was quite white. But nothing else was changed. The parlour
looked brighter than ever; there was a bowl of primroses on the table.
Through the window you could see the big cherry-trees in the orchard
white with blossom. Upstairs the sun streamed into Aunt Mary's
bedroom, and the river sounded quite cheerful across the fields as it
raced along over the weir. When Aunt Mary had baked the soda bread for
tea she went to the half-door, and looked out across the fields. "I
thought I saw Niel coming," she said; "it is about time he was home."
Then she turned back to the children, and welcomed them, as though she
saw them now for the first time. On the way back they asked each other
in whispers what could be the matter with her, but Mick walked on
ahead, and said not a word. At the end of the loney they met Father
Ryan.

"I was just coming to see you," he said. "It's you, Michael, I was
wanting. I've got a blue pigeon for you, if you'll walk the length of
the village with me."

Mick turned back with him. It was a lovely evening; the air was full
of the smell of spring. They walked along silently. At their feet
were tufts of primroses and dog-violets growing under the shelter of
the stone wall. A chestnut-tree in the convent garden hung a green
branch over the road. Before them, on one side