ants to hear all about his poor mother, Sister," said the
Sister Superior. "This is Sister Louise, Mr. Brady, who attended your
poor mother to the last."

Mr. Brady, who seemed a taciturn youth, rolled his black eyes towards
the new comer and waited for her to proceed.

Very simply did Sister Louise tell her little story, dwelling on such
of his mother's sayings, during her last illness, as she thought might
interest and comfort him.

"There are her beads, and the little medal, which she always wore. She
left them to you with her blessing."

Barney thrust out one huge brown hand and took the little packet,
swallowing down what appeared to be a very large lump in his throat.

"She told me," pursued the Sister in rather tremulous tones, "to tell
you that she did not fret at all at the last, and died content and
happy. She did, indeed, and she told me to say that she was thankful
to be here--"

But Barney interrupted her with a sudden incredulous gesture and a big
sob, "Ah, whisht, Sisther!" he said.

THE FLITTING OF THE OLD FOLKS

"Maggie! Maggie! Glory be to goodness! where in the world has that
child gone off with herself to? _Maggie_! Sure I've been roarin' an'
bawlin' for ye this half-hour. Run up this minute to Mr.
Brophy's--they're afther gettin' a letther from America, an' they
can't get any one to read it for them, the cratur's. Hurry now, that's
a good little girl; I'm goin' up myself along wid ye. Poor Mrs.
Brophy'll be nearly out of her mind."

Mrs. Kinsella caught up her baby as she spoke, gave a hasty look round
to make sure that Micky and Nanny were not crawling into the fire,
enjoined Mary, her "second eldest" little girl, to "have an eye to
them" during her absence, and, hustling her firstborn before her,
hastily left the cabin.

"What is it at all?" asked Peggy Murphy, her next-door neighbour,
thrusting her head over the half-door. "What in the world has
happened? Is it goin' up to Brophys' ye are? I hope herself's not sick
or anything."

"Not at all; but Dan looked in on his way from town, an' says he,
'I've a letther in my pocket that the postmisthress is afther givin'
me, an' it's from America,' he says, 'but I'm sure I couldn't tell ye
who wrote it,' says he. 'I wisht,' he says, 'ye'd send up wan o' yer
little girls to read it to us,' says he, 'for neither herself nor me
is much hand at makin' out writin'.' An' here I'm afther sarchin' high
an' low for Maggie, an' where was she?