"We must live, Barney; 'tis a poor shift we'd make 'idout the praties
and the broghan," (meal porridge).

"What news from the big house?"

"News, is it? Come, Corney, come, girls, bounce; news is it? O, faitha',
thin it's I that has the news that will make you all shake your feet
to-night."

"Blessed saints, Barney what is it?"

"Bounce, I say, and off wid ye to gather brusna (dried and rotten
brambles) for a bonfire in the great town of Rathfillan."

"A bonfire, Barney! Arra, why, man alive?"

"Why? Why, bekaise the masther's stepson and the misthress's own pet has
come home to us to set the counthry into a state o' conflagration wid
his beauty. There won't be a whole cap in the barony before this day
week. They're to have fiddlers, and pipers, and dancin', and drinkin'
to no end; and the glory of it is that the masther, God bless him, is to
pay for all. Now!"

The younger of the two girls sprang to her feet with the elasticity and
agility of a deer.

"O, _beetha_, Barney," she exclaimed, "but that will be the fun! And
the misthress's son is home? Arra, what is he like, Barney? Is he as
handsome as Masther Charles?"

"I hope he's as good," said her mother.

"As good, Bridget? No, but worth a shipload of him; he has a pair of
eyes in his head, _Granua_," (anglice, Grace,) addressing the younger,
"that 'ud turn _Glendhis_ (the dark glen) to noonday at midnight; divil
a lie in it; and his hand's never out of his pocket wid generosity."

"O, mother," said Grace, "won't we all go?"

"Don't ax your mother anything about it," replied Barney, "bekaise
mother, and father, and sister, and brother, daughter and son, is all to
come."

"Arra, Barney," said Bridget Davoren, for such was her name, "is this
gentleman like his _ecald_ of a mother?"

"Hasn't a feature of her purty face," he replied, "and, to the back o'
that, is very much given to religion. Troth, my own opinion is, he'll be
one of ourselves yet; for I can tell you a saicret about him."

"A saicret, Barney," said Grace; "maybe he's married?"

"Married, no; he tould me himself this momin' that it's not his
intention ever to marry 'till he meets a purty girl to plaise him; he'll
keep a loose foot, he says, and an aisy conscience till then, he says;
but the saicret is this, he never aits flesh mate of a Friday--when
he emit get it. Indeed, I'm afeared he's too good to be long for this
world; but still, if the Lord was to take him, wouldn't it be a pro