h closely watched and pursued,
directed their course to Fardorougha's house, and settled in the mouth
of the chimney. Connor, having got a clean sheet, secured them, and was
about to submit them to the care of the Bodagh's servants, when it
was suggested that the duty of bringing them home devolved on himself,
inasmuch as he was told they would not remain, unless placed in a new
skep by the hands of the person on whose property they had settled.
While on his way to the Bodagh's he was accosted in the following words
by one of O'Brien's servants:

"Connor, there's good luck before you, or the bees wouldn't pick you out
amongst all the rest o' the neighbors. You ought to hould up your head,
man. Who knows what mainin's in it?"

"Why, do you b'lieve that bees sittin' wid one is a sign o' good luck?"

"Surely I do. Doesn't every one know it to be thrue? Connor, you're a
good-lookin' fellow, an' I need scarcely tell you that we have a purty
girl at home; can you lay that an' that together? Arrah, be my sowl,
the richest honey ever the same bees'll make, is nothin' but alloways,
compared wid that purty mouth of her own! A honey-comb is a fool to it."

"Why, did you ever thry, Mike?"

"Is it me? Och, och, if I was only high enough in this world, maybe I
wouldn't be spakin' sweet to her; no, no, be my word! thry, indeed, for
the likes o' me! Faith, but I know a sartin young man that she does be
often spakin' about."

Connor's heart was in a state of instant commotion.

"An' who--who is he--who is that sartin young man, Mike?"

"Faith, the son o' one that can run a shillin' farther than e'er another
man in the country. Do you happen to be acquainted wid one Connor
O'Donovan, of Lisnamona?"

"Connor O'Donovan--that's good, Mike--in the mane time don't be goin' it
on us. No, no;--an' even if she did, it isn't to you she spake about any
one, Michael ahagur!"

"No, nor it wasn't to me--sure I didn't say it was--but don't you know
my sister's at sarvice in the Bodagh's family? Divil the word o' falsity
I'm tellin' you; so, if you haven't the heart to spake for yourself, I
wouldn't give knots o' straws for you; and now, there's no harm done I
hope--moreover, an' by the same token, you needn't go to the trouble o'
puttin' up an advertisement to let the parish know what I've tould you."

"Hut, tut, Mike, it's all folly. Una Dhun O'Brien to think of
me!--nonsense, man; that cock would never fight."

"Very well; divil a mors