he priest's words just quoted had
touched her in a vulnerable point. True for his reverence. It wasn't
living much longer they'd be over there, and when they came to die it
would be a lonesome sort of thing to have a strange priest coming to
see them instead of their own Father Taylor, who had been their
friend, guide, and adviser for more than forty years! Mrs. Brophy's
heart misgave her; his reverence would be apt to think bad of their
going off that way, and him so good to them. Then Mrs. Kinsella's
remarks rankled in her memory--"an ould pot" that Mrs. Larry would
despise in her elegant kitchen; the cool scrutiny with which she had
surveyed all poor Mary's treasured belongings was hard to be borne.
The dresser; like enough there would not be room for the dresser in
the boat--Mary had no notion as to the size of the vessel that was to
convey her and her belongings to America--and what about the bed then?
The bed, a valuable heirloom which had stood in its own particular
corner of the cabin for nearly a century, which had been Mary's
mother's bed, the pride and joy of Mary's heart, and the envy of the
neighbours. What in the world was to be done with this priceless
treasure? Good-natured as she was she felt that she could not bring
herself to allow it to become the property of Mrs. Kinsella or any of
the neighbours. Who would respect it as she did? At the bare thought
of heedless "gossoons" or "slips of girls" tumbling in and out of the
receptacle which she herself had always approached so reverently, Mary
shivered.

"Cock them up, indeed!" she murmured wrathfully.

Then an idea struck her, an idea which became a fixed resolution when
presently Father Taylor's kindly face nodded at her over the
half-door. She would offer his reverence the bed; it would be honoured
by such a rise in the world as a transfer to the priest's house; and
at the same time Mary felt that this precious legacy would in some
measure repay her good pastor for his long and affectionate care. She
had hardly patience to listen to Father Taylor's greeting, or to
answer his good-natured rallying queries anent their unexpected good
fortune. When she did speak it was rather in a tone of lamentation
than of rejoicing:--

"Aye, indeed, yer reverence, it's what we nayther of us looked for,
an' it's a terrible change altogether. I'm wondering what in the world
I'll do wid my bits o' things--my little sticks o' furniture, ye know,
sir. Biddy Kinsella was