e names on the hairbs an' save
_them_; that wuz fwhat Docther Carmartin done whin Oi was larnin'
him. Thayer, now, that's it," she added, as Yan took the hint and
began slipping on each stalk a paper label with its name.

"That's a curious broom," said Yan, as his eye fell on the symbol of
order and cleanliness, making strange reflections on itself.

"Yes; sure, that's a Baitche broom. Larry makes 'em."

"Larry?"

"Yes, me bhoy." [Larry was nearly sixty.] "He makes thim of Blue
Baitche."

"How?" asked Yan, picking it up and examining it with intense
interest.

"Whoi, shure, by whittlin'. Larry's a howly terror to whittle, an'
he gets a Blue Baitche sapling 'bout three inches thick an' starts
a-whittlin" long slivers, but laves them on the sthick at wan end till
thayer all round loike that."

"What, like a fire-lighter?"

"Yis, yis, that's it, only bigger, an Blue Baitche is terrible tough.
Then whin he has the sthick down to 'bout an inch thick, he ties all
the slivers the wrong way wid a sthrand o' Litherwood, an' thrims down
the han'el to suit, an' evens up the ind av the broom wid the axe an'
lets it dhry out, an' thayer yer is. Better broom was niver made, an'
there niver wus ony other in th' famb'ly till he married that Kitty
Connor, the lowest av the low, an' it's meself was all agin her, wid
her proide an' her dirthy sthuck-up ways' nothin' but boughten things
wuz good enough fur her, _her_ that niver had a dacint male till
she thrapped moi Larry. Yis, low be it sphoken, but 'thrapped' 's the
wurrud," said the old woman, raising her voice to give emphasis that
told a lurid tale.

At this moment the door opened and in came Biddy, and as she was the
daughter of the unspeakable Kitty the conversation turned.

"An' sure it's glad to see ye I am, an' when are ye comin' down to
reside at our place?" was her greeting to Yan, and while they talked
Granny took advantage of the chance to take a long pull at a bottle
that looked and smelled like Lung-balm.

"Moi, Biddy, yer airly," said Granny.

"Shure, an' now it was late whin I left home, an' the schulmaster says
it's always so walking from ayst to west."

"An' shure it's glad Oi am to say ye, fur Yan will shtop an ate wid
us. It ain't duck an' grane pase, but, thank God, we hev enough an' a
hearty welcome wid ivery boite. Ye say, Biddy makes me dinner ivery
foine day an' Oi get a boite an' a sup for meself other toimes, an'
slapes be me lone furby me Do