me money out of a Lynch."

"I've nothing more to say, since you insist on keeping possession of
my sister," and Barry turned to the door. "But you'll be indicted for
conspiracy, so you'd better be prepared."

"Conspiracy, is it?" said one of Mrs Kelly's admirers; "maybe, Ma'am,
he'll get you put in along with Dan and Father Tierney, God bless them!
It's conspiracy they're afore the judges for."

Barry now took himself off, before hearing the last of the widow's
final peal of thunder.

"Get out wid you! You're no good, and never will be. An' it wasn't for
the young woman upstairs, I'd have the coat off your back, and your
face well mauled, before I let you out of the shop!" And so ended the
interview, in which the anxious brother can hardly be said to have been
triumphant, or successful.

The widow, on the other hand, seemed to feel that she had acquitted
herself well, and that she had taken the orphan's part, like a woman,
a Christian, and a mother; and merely saying, with a kind of inward
chuckle, "Come to me, indeed, with his roguery! he's got the wrong pig
by the ear!" she walked off, to join the more timid trio upstairs, one
of whom was speedily sent down, to see that business did not go astray.

And then she gave a long account of the interview to Anty and Meg,
which was hardly necessary, as they had heard most of what had passed.
The widow however was not to know that, and she was very voluble in her
description of Barry's insolence, and of the dreadfully abusive things
he had said to her--how he had given her the lie, and called her out of
her name. She did not, however, seem to be aware that she had, herself,
said a word which was more than necessarily violent; and assured Anty
over and over again, that, out of respect to her feelings, and because
the man was, after all, her brother, she had refrained from doing and
saying what she would have done and said, had she been treated in
such a manner by anybody else. She seemed, however, in spite of the
ill-treatment which she had undergone, to be in a serene and happy
state of mind. She shook Anty's two hands in hers, and told her to make
herself "snug and asy where she was, like a dear girl, and to fret
for nothing, for no one could hurt or harum her, and she undher Mary
Kelly's roof." Then she wiped her face in her apron, set to at her
dinner; and even went so far as to drink a glass of porter, a thing she
hadn't done, except on a Sunday, since her eldest dau