ned and fed.

"And he's quit out of it himself," Andy continued, "for the ould uncle
of his he's been stoppin' wid this while back at Duffclane's after dyin'
and lavin' him a fine farm and a hantle of money, and I dunno what all
besides. So it's there he's goin' to live, and he's gave up the ould
place at Clonmena, as well he may, and no loss to him on it, for he sez
himself he niver spent a pinny over it beyont what he'd be druv to, if
he wanted to get e'er a crop out of it at all, and keep things together
in any fashion: he wasn't such a fool." Andy hesitated, as if on the
brink of a painful theme, and resumed with an effort: "He's bought
Magpie and the two two-year-olds off of Peter Martin. Chape enough he
got them, too, though he had to give ten shillin's a head more for them
than Martin ped me."

"Mavrone, but some people have the luck," said Mrs. Joyce.

"And Jerry bid me tell you," said Andy, the memory of his lost cattle
still saddening his tone, "that he might be steppin' up here to see you
to-morra or next day."

At this Mrs. Joyce's face suddenly brightened, as if she had been
summoned to share Jerry Dunne's good luck. She felt almost as if that
had actually happened. For his visit could surely signify nothing else
than that he meant to continue his suit; and under the circumstances,
Bessy's misliking was a piece of folly not to be taken into account.
Besides that, the girl, she thought, looked quite heartened up by the
news. So she replied to her husband: "'Deed then, he'll be very
welcome," and the sparkle was in her eyes all the rest of the evening.

On the morrow, which was a bright morning with a far-off pale blue sky,
Mrs. Joyce hurried over her readying-up, that she might be prepared for
her possible visitor. She put on her best clothes, and as her wardrobe
had not yet fallen to a level with her fortune, she was able to array
herself in a strong steel-grey mohair gown, a black silk apron with
three rows of velvet ribbon on it besides the binding, a fine small
woollen shawl of very brilliant scarlet and black plaid, with a pinkish
cornelian brooch to pin it at the throat, all surmounted by a snowy
high-caul cap, in those days not yet out of date at Lisconnel, where
fashions lag somewhat. She noticed, well-pleased, Bessy's willingness to
fall in with the suggestion that she should re-arrange her hair and
change her gown after the morning's work was done; and the inference
drawn grew stronger, when,