ting forward, stooped
over one of the stone supports which had formerly upheld old Peter's
beloved rick, eagerly groping in a certain little fissure in the rough
stone, almost hidden beneath the horizontal slab which surmounted it.

"Sure, there it is!" she cried triumphantly, producing indeed the
grimy little object so dear to her heart. "I have it now! there's me
darlin' pipe! I was afther forgettin' I put it there; it was turned
upside down in the crack an' all me baccy's spilt on me!"

Roseen could at first scarcely believe her own eyes and ears; this
then was the solution of the mystery which had so long baffled them.
Poor old Judy, growing sleepy and tired after her long wait, had laid
her pipe on one side intending to rise and look for Mike, but,
overcome by drowsiness, she had slept instead, and on awaking had
forgotten the spot where she had stowed her treasure. The little pipe,
slipping downwards in the crack, had turned over, upsetting its
contents upon the loose hay beneath the rick, which being, as Judy had
related, dry as tinder, quickly caught fire from the smouldering
embers. A strong breeze had arisen that night, and the flame had
spread to the stack itself with the results which Roseen knew. The
pipe that had done all the damage, being snugly stowed away beneath
the overhanging slab of stone, had told no tales; but now its evidence
was conclusive, and while Judy rapturously embraced and mumbled over
it, Roseen fell upon her knees and thanked God.

It was on a bright October morning that Mike was released from prison,
but in spite of the joys of regained liberty and the warm
congratulations of his friends, the poor fellow looked downcast and
bewildered enough when he came forth into the sunshiny world. Roseen
had sent her car for him to the prison door, and Mike, releasing
himself at length from the handshakes of the friends who awaited him
outside, and being anxious to dispense with their escort, had induced
the driver, with a hasty whispered word or two, to whip up the
fast-trotting mare, which had thereupon started at a break-neck pace
down the street, soon leaving the astonished convoy far behind.

"Bedad, ye are in a terrible hurry altogether," remarked Jack McEvoy,
who happened to be driving. "I suppose ye are in a hurry to get to
Monavoe." He laughed and winked. "Begorrah, if the ould Masther could
lift his head out o' the grave, I wonder what he'd say at me goin' to
fetch a husband for his g