oloney's, to find a house with such an appearance of comfort
upon it, in such a place.

Long and low that house was, and very old. You could tell the great age
of it by the thickness of the thatch, as well as by seeing, when you
were standing inside upon the kitchen floor and looking up, that that
same thatch was resting, not upon common planks, sawn with the grain and
against the grain and every way, but upon the real boughs themselves,
put there by them that had to choose carefully what would be suitable
for their purpose, because there were few tools then for shaping timber.
So that's how the branches were there yet, the same as ever, bark and
twigs and all; ay, and as sound as the day they were put there, two
hundred years before.

As for the walls at Moloney's ... mud, I'm not denying it! but the
thickness of them! and the way they were kept white-washed, inside and
out! They'd dazzle you, to look at them; especially in the kitchen of an
evening, when the fire would be strong. And that was a thing that
occurred mostly always at Moloney's. For Herself was a most notorious
Vanithee; and there's no better sign of good housekeeping than a clean,
blazing hearth. Sure isn't that, as a body might say, the heart of the
whole house? Heart or hearth, isn't it all the one thing, nearly? For if
warmth and comfort for the body come from the one, doesn't love and
pleasant kindness come from the other? Ay, indeed!

And now, here was the Christmas Eve come round again, when every one
puts the best foot foremost, whether they can or not. And so by
Moloney's. The darkness had fallen, and a wild, wet night it was, as
ever came out of the heavens. But that only made the light seem the
brighter and more coaxing that the fire was sending out over the
half-door, and through the little, twinkling bulls'-eyes windows, as if
it was trying to say, "Come along in, whoever you are that's outside in
the cold and the rain! Look at the way the Woman has the floor swept,
till there isn't a speck upon it! and the tables and stools scoured like
the snow, and the big old pewter plates and dishes upon the dresser
polished till they're shining like a goat's eyes from under a bed! Come
in! Sure every one is welcome here to-night, whether they come or not!"

And still in all...!

Well, one look round would tell you, with half an eye, that something
was wrong at Moloney's, Christmas Eve and all as it was. For Big Michael
himself was standing there in