she declared she could not endure to hear for three distinct reasons.

"Let's hear them," he suggested, continuing the low humming:

"Ten years have gone by
And I have not one dollar;
Evilena still lives
In that green grassy hollow."

"There! what sort of man would he be, any way?" she demanded, "a man
who couldn't earn a dollar in ten years!"

"Arrah, now! and there's many a one of us travels longer and finds
less, and never gets a song made about him, either; so, that's your
first reason, is it?"

"And a very good one, too!" affirmed the practical damsel; "do you
want to hear the second?"

"An' it please your sovereign grace!"

"Well, it doesn't, for you can't sing it," and she emphasized the
statement by flaunting her garden hat at every word.

"Me, is it? Ah, now, listen to that! I can't sing it, can't I? Well,
then, I'll practice it all day and every day until you change your
mind about that, my lady!"

"I shan't; for I've heard it sung so much better--and by a boy _who
wore a uniform_--and that's the third reason."

After that remark she walked up the steps very deliberately, and was
very polite to him when they met an hour later, which politeness was
the foundation for a feud lasting forty-eight hours; she determined
that his punishment should be nothing _less_ than that; it would teach
him not to make her a laughing stock again. He should find he had not
an Irish girl to tease, and--and make love to--especially before other
folks!

And to shorten the season of her displeasure, he evolved a plan
promising to woo the dimples into her cheeks again, for, if nothing
but a uniformed singer was acceptable to her, a uniformed singer she
should have. For the sake of her bright eyes he was willing to humor
all her reasonable fancies--and most of her unreasonable ones. The
consequences of this particular one, however, were something he could
not foresee.

CHAPTER XXII.

The O'Delaven, as he called himself when he was in an especially Irish
mood, was Mistress McVeigh's most devoted servant and helper in the
preparations for the party. In fact, when Judge Clarkson rode over to
pay his respects, a puzzled little frown persistently crept between
his brows at the gallantry and assiduity displayed by this exile of
Erin in carrying out the charming lady's orders, to say nothing of the
gayety, the almost presumption, with wh