ould woman, who has learned from long experience,
I'm thinkin' he'll be a good man fer her."

"You think so?" asked Miss Piper, brightening up.

"I'm sure of it, miss; it's in the blood, so it is."

The three women were now on a basis of plain understanding, and the
balance of the conversation was easier and productive of results.
After the two had departed, Nancy sat a long time gazing out of the
window, and pondering the situation which had arisen. She did not
entertain a doubt as to the ultimate fulfilment of her prophecies, but
she wondered how long. The afternoon waned into evening, and she had a
grand opportunity to knit and think, which two occupations were her
chief enjoyments.

After supper, the usual company dropped into the bar. It was the
common meeting-place for gossip and good-fellowship, and during the
early hours Will Devitt did a lively business. But a curious change
was taking place within Nancy McVeigh. From her rocker, in the rear
apartment, where she and the girls spent their evenings, she could hear
the loud laughs and talking that passed between her customers, mingled
with the clink of glasses, and the noise was offensive to her. The
thought repeated itself in her mind, Was the continued harassing of her
teetotaller friends awakening a new phase in her life? For the first
time, perhaps, since her deceased husband had bought the tavern, her
surrounding's appeared distasteful, and almost sordid. More than once
she arose and walked into the bar, where her presence was the signal
for doffing of caps and a lowering of voices. She went for no
particular purpose, and the men who were buying her liquor were
surprised at the frown and curt replies which they received to their
greetings.

"Nancy's in a bad humor," blurted one old fellow, who was a nightly
caller, as she turned her back. Mistress McVeigh heard the remark, and
it aroused her anger more than she would have cared to admit. She
retraced her steps, and her glance wandered severely over the
half-dozen men present.

"Ye should be at home with yer wife, Mr. Malone, and not wastin' yer
toime waitin' about my premises fer some one to buy ye a drink," she
said to the man who had spoken.

Malone laughed foolishly, and treated her words as a joke. He was on
the verge of a maudlin state, and prepared to contest his rights to be
there.

"Another drink, Mr. Devitt, and a glass all round," he blustered,
throwing a piece of silver on t