tress McVeigh," greeted old Mr. Conors, at the
sight of her.

"It is that, and more, too, Mr. Conors," she assented, including the
two men before her in her remark.

"This spell o' weather's bad fer the crops. I'll have to stop at the
pump altogether if it don't rain soon."

"You're welcome to your choice. If ye want a drink and can pay fer it,
I am pleased to serve ye, but I ask no man fer what he cannot afford,"
was Nancy's rejoinder, as she wiped her hands on her apron after
drawing the mugs.

"Been to town?" she inquired, after a minute's reflection.

"Yes, and a bad place it is to save money. The women folk have so many
things to buy that I often wonder where the pay for the seed grain'll
come from. Had to buy the missus a shawl, and two yards of flannel for
the kids to-day, and heaven only knows what they will be wanting next
week, when school begins again," commented Mr. Conors.

"'Tis a God's blessing to have your childer, the bright, wee things!
They keep us from fergittin' altogether," said Nancy, sighing, and
looking abstractedly out of the window.

"She is thinkin', poor woman," observed Mr. O'Hagan, in a low tone.

"Ye have quite a squad yerself, Nancy," ventured Mr. Conors.

"Yes," she agreed, "there's Sam Duncan's little girl. You remember big
Sam, who was drowned in his own well?" Mr. Conors nodded. "And
Jennie--but she's a rare young lass now, and waits on table as well as
I can do. If I could spare her I'd send her to school, fer she needs
book learnin' more than she's got at present, but it's hard work I have
to keep up the old place, and I'm not as able fer it as I was the first
years after McVeigh died. Then I have Will Devitt's boy. He's past
eighteen now, and handy about the stables. If it was not fer him I'm
thinkin' old Donald would never manage at all."

"An' you'd take in the very nixt waif that comes along," declared Mr.
O'Hagan.

"Maybe," answered Mistress McVeigh, thoughtfully.

Mr. Conors broke in with the question, "Where's yer own boy, Corney?
It's a long while since he was about the place with his capers and
curly head. Only t'other day my missus was talkin' about the time he
and my Johnny learned to smoke behind my barn, and almost burnt the
hull of us into the bargain."

A smile flitted across Nancy McVeigh's face at the recollection. "My
Corney's a wonderful lad, Mr. Conors. He doesn't take after either of
his parents, fer he'd give over the best game in