mentioned, and they began to fear
that Barry's threat would have the intended effect, and frighten her
from the match. However, they kindly talked of other things--of how
impossible it was that she should go back to Dunmore House, and how
comfortable and snug they would make her at the inn, till she got
a home for herself; of what she should do, and of all their little
household plans together; till Anty, when she could forget her
brother's threats for a time, seemed to be more comfortable and happy
than she had been for years.

In vain did the widow that morning repeatedly invoke Meg and Jane,
first one and then the other, to assist in her commercial labours. In
vain were Sally and Kate commissioned to bring them down. If, on some
urgent behest, one of them darted down to mix a dandy of punch, or
weigh a pound of sugar, when the widow was imperatively employed
elsewhere, she was upstairs again, before her mother could look about
her; and, at last, Mrs Kelly was obliged to content herself with the
reflection that girls would be girls, and that it was "nathural and
right they shouldn't wish to lave Anty alone the first morning, and she
sthrange to the place."

At five o'clock, the widow, as was her custom, went up to her dinner;
and Meg was then obliged to come down and mind the shop, till her
sister, having dined, should come down and relieve guard. She had only
just ensconced herself behind the counter, when who should walk into
the shop but Barry Lynch.

Had Meg seen an ogre, or the enemy of all mankind himself, she could
not, at the moment, have been more frightened; and she stood staring at
him, as if the sudden loss of the power of motion alone prevented her
from running away.

"I want to see Mrs Kelly," said Barry; "d'ye hear? I want to see your
mother; go and tell her."

But we must go back, and see how Mr Lynch had managed to get up, and
pass his morning.

VII. MR BARRY LYNCH MAKES A MORNING CALL

It was noon before Barry first opened his eyes, and discovered the
reality of the headache which the night's miserable and solitary
debauch had entailed on him. For, in spite of the oft-repeated
assurance that there is not a headache in a hogshead of it, whiskey
punch will sicken one, as well as more expensive and more fashionable
potent drinks. Barry was very sick when he first awoke; and very
miserable, too; for vague recollections of what he had done, and
doubtful fears of what he might have done