ylor 'ud know. The say is miles an' miles away--I question if they'd
give us a ticket for the say down beyant at Clonkeen."

"Sure, yez'll have to go to Dublin first," interposed the
well-informed person who had before volunteered useful explanations.

"Dublin!" said Dan, sitting down on the edge of his favourite little
"creepy" stool. "Well, well, to think o' that! I never thought to be
goin' to Dublin, an' I suppose America is twicet as far."

"Aye, an' ten times as far," cried Peggy Murphy.

Dan looked appealingly round as though seeking contradiction, but
could not summon up enough courage to speak. He sat still, rubbing his
hands, and smiling a rather vacant smile; and by-and-by, having
exhausted their queries and conjectures, the visitors left the cabin,
and the old couple were alone.

They stared at each other for a moment or two in silence, Mary Brophy
fingering the letter which she could not read.

"That's grand news?" she remarked presently, with a querulous
interrogative note in her voice.

"Grand entirely," repeated her husband submissively, rubbing the
patched knees of his corduroy trousers for a change.

"We'll have to be gettin' ready to be off soon, I suppose?" pursued
Mary, still in a tone of vexed inquiry.

"Aye," said Dan, continuing to rub his knees.

"Ye ought to be out o' yer wits wid delight," asserted Mrs. Brophy
angrily.

"So I am," said Dan, with a ghastly attempt at cheerfulness.

"Ah, go 'long out o' that!" cried Mary. "Ye have me moithered, sittin'
there starin' the two eyes out o' yer head. Go out an' give the hens a
bit to ate."

"Sure we haven't had our own suppers yet," returned Dan, slowly
rising; "time enough to give the cratur's what's left."

"Listen to the man! 'Pon me word, ye'd never desarve a bit o' good
look, Dan Brophy, ye've that little sense. What call have we to go
pinchin' an' scrapin' now, will ye tell me? Us that's goin' to spend
the rest of our days in peace an' comfort. Sure, Larry'll let us want
for nothin' while we live."

"Aye, indeed," returned her husband; "I was forgettin' that."

He went out obediently, and presently his voice was heard dolorously
"chuck-chucking" to the hens. When he re-entered he sat down on the
stool again, with the same puzzled air which had formerly irritated
his wife.

"I wonder," he said, "how in the world we'll be managin'. Will I go
down to the station beyant, an' give them that money ordher, an' tell
them Larry bid