e window, Annorah. That will do. Now,
sit down on this low stool, and tell me how long it is since you left
Ireland."

"It's two years, miss, coom April."

"So lately? Then you remember all about the old country?"

"Remember! An' it's me that'll niver forget that same. The beautiful
counthree it is!"

"Pleasanter than this, do you think?"

"A thousand times. There is no place in the world like it; the dear
ould counthree!"

"Why, then, did you leave it, Annorah?"

"Bad luck we had, miss; and a worse luck intirely here, the mane town
that this is."

"Tell me all about it."

"What for? That ye, too, may laugh like the rest, and call us the
mane, dirty set of Irish vagabonds?" asked the girl, her small eyes
kindling with a sense of imaginary insult.

"No, no, Annorah. You don't think I would say such things, do you? But
you need not tell me a word if you had rather not. I only thought it
would make me forget my pain for a little time; and, besides, I love
dearly to hear about Ireland, or any place where I have never been,"
said Annie, with a tone of voice so calm and earnest that the girl
could not doubt her sincerity.

"Do you, in truth? Why, thin, it's me that'll talk till I hoarse
meself dumb for yer good. It was the famine, miss, that came first,
and stole the bit o' food that was saved. The praties were rotten in
the field; and the poor pigs starved that should have helped us out
wi' the rint. Och, but it was a sore time o' grief whin sorra a
mouthful were left for the bit childer and the ould people who were
weak before wi' ould age! In the worst time o' all, whin the need was
the sorest, our Bessie got into disgrace, and came home from service
wi' niver a penny to help herself or us. There was nought to do and
nought to eat at all. The neighbours were faint wi' the hoonger; and
so, before the worst came, we left all that was dear and came here."

"How many of you came, Annorah?"

"Nine, miss, if we consider our uncles and cousins. We did not come
altogether; brother John, who is dead, and uncle Mike, came first. And
a fine chance to work they got directly, miss; and then they sent
money to pay the old folk's passage. Our hearts gathered coorage and
strength at once, miss, and we thought, shure, the great throubles
were over. But the next vessel brought the bad news for us, and we
forgot the glimmer of hope we had; for it was our own father dear who
was dead o' the cholera."

"Poor Annorah!" excla