, Jerry Bogan; who, though
no relation, was tenderly treated by Mike, being old and poor. His
score was never kept, but he seldom wanted for his evening grog. Jerry
Bogan was a cheerful soul; the wit of the Celts and their pathetic
wilfulness were delightful in him. The priest liked him, the doctor
half loved him, this old-fashioned Irishman who had a graceful
compliment or a thrust of wit for whoever came in his way. What a
treasury of old Irish lore and legend was this old sailor! What
broadness and good cheer and charity had been fostered in his sailor
heart! The delight of little children with his clever tales and
mysterious performances with bits of soft pine and a sharp jackknife,
a very Baron Munchausen of adventure, and here he sat, round backed
and head pushed forward like an old turtle, by the fire. The other men
sat or stood about the low-walled room. Mike was serving his friends;
there was a clink of glass and a stirring and shaking, a pungent odor
of tobacco, and much laughter.

"Soombody, whoiver it was, thrun a cat down in Tom Auley's well las'
night," announced Corny Sullivan with more than usual gravity.

"They'll have no luck thin," says Jerry. "Anybody that meddles wid
wather 'ill have no luck while they live, faix they 'ont thin."

"Tom Auley's been up watchin' this three nights now," confides the
other old gossip. "Thim dirty b'y's troublin' his pigs in the sthy,
and having every stramash about the place, all for revinge upon him
for gettin' the police afther thim when they sthole his hins. 'T was
as well for him too, they're dirty bligards, the whole box and dice of
them."

"Whishper now!" and Jerry pokes his great head closer to his friend.
"The divil of 'em all is young Dan Bogan, Mike's son. Sorra a bit o'
good is all his schoolin', and Mike's heart 'll be soon broke from
him. I see him goin' about wid his nose in the air. He's a pritty boy,
but the divil is in him an' 't is he ought to have been a praste wid
his chances and Father Miles himself tarkin and tarkin wid him tryin'
to make him a crown of pride to his people after all they did for him.
There was niver a spade in his hand to touch the ground yet. Look at
his poor father now! Look at Mike, that's grown old and gray since
winther time." And they turned their eyes to the bar to refresh their
memories with the sight of the disappointed face behind it.

There was a rattling at the door-latch just then and loud voices
outside, and as