gain, she was not at all so indifferent
as she had appeared to be, to her favourite son's marrying four
hundred a-year. She was angry at his thinking of such a thing without
consulting her; she feared the legal difficulties he must encounter;
and she didn't like the thoughts of its being said that her son had
married an old fool, and cozened her out of her money. But still,
four hundred a-year was a great thing; and Anty was a good-tempered
tractable young woman, of the right religion, and would not make a bad
wife; and, on reconsideration, Mrs Kelly thought the thing wasn't to be
sneezed at. Then, again, she hated Barry, and, having a high spirit,
felt indignant that he should think of preventing her son from marrying
his sister, if the two of them chose to do it; and she knew she'd be
able, and willing enough, too, to tell him a bit of her mind, if there
should be occasion. And lastly, and most powerfully of all, the woman's
feeling came in to overcome her prudential scruples, and to open her
heart and her house to a poor, kindly, innocent creature, ill-treated
as Anty Lynch had been. She was making up her mind what to do, and
determining to give battle royal to Barry and all his satellites, on
behalf of Anty, when Biddy interrupted her by saying,--

"I hope I warn't wrong, ma'am, in coming down and throubling you so
arly? I thought maybe you'd be glad to befrind Miss Anty--seeing she
and Miss Meg, and Miss Jane, is so frindly."

"No, Biddy;--for a wondher, you're right, this morning. Mr Barry won't
be stirring yet?"

"Divil a stir, ma'am! The dhrunkenness won't be off him yet this long
while. And will I go up, and be bringing Miss Anty down, ma'am?"

"Wait a while. Sit to the fire there, and warm your shins. You're a
good girl. I'll go and get on my shoes and stockings, and my cloak, and
bonnet. I must go up wid you myself, and ask yer misthress down, as she
should be asked. They'll be telling lies on her 'av she don't lave the
house dacently, as she ought."

"More power to you thin, Mrs Kelly, this blessed morning, for a kind
good woman as you are, God bless you!" whimpered forth Biddy, who, now
that she had obtained her request, began to cry, and to stuff the
corner of her petticoat into her eyes.

"Whist, you fool--whist," said the widow. "Go and get up Sally--you
know where she sleeps--and tell her to put down a fire in the little
parlour upstairs, and to get a cup of tay ready, and to have Miss Meg
up. Yo