o the bar.

"No, Mr. Malone, ye have had yer fill, an' it's no more ye'll git the
night," Nancy insisted.

Malone grumbled a reply, and some of the others took sides with him,
and their demands were aggressively loud.

"I tell ye, it's no more liquor'll be served in this bar to-night,"
Nancy again declared, and stepping from behind, she began a steady
movement towards the door. The men shot a few irresolute glances at
Will Devitt, but his face gave no encouragement to disobey, and
gradually they dispersed, all but Malone, who had a wish to be
troublesome. His mutiny was short-lived, however, for Nancy's fingers
suddenly clutched his collar, and she precipitated him on to the
verandah, with scarce an apparent effort.

"I'm not well the night, Will, and the noise hurts my head," she
explained to Will Devitt, as she passed into her sitting-room.

A crunching of wheels sounded from the roadway, and presently a rig
came to a stop in the open sheds. Boisterous talking ensued, and then
four young men came into the light of the hallway. They were all well
dressed, and of a different class to the usual run of custom.

"Ho, Mistress McVeigh, a room please, and a few bottles of the best in
your house." Almost simultaneously Nancy appeared, and a tolerant
smile again hovered in the corners of her mouth.

"Faith, an' are ye back again, John Keene?" she asked.

"I am, most assuredly; who could pass your welcome doorway without
dropping in?" young John answered, laughing.

"It's high time ye quit yer loose ways," Nancy commenced, trying to
frown, but her voice had none of the harshness of her previous
ill-humor.

"No preaching, now, Mistress McVeigh," young John interposed, as he
flung his arm affectionately across her shoulders.

"Ye're always takin' advantage of a poor ould woman," Nancy retorted,
good-naturedly, as she led the way upstairs to the parlor, where Jennie
had already placed a lamp.

"I've a bad head the night, sirs, so I'll be thankful if ye make no
noise," she said, before descending the stairs.

The hours passed quietly enough, and, when it was closing time, she
ordered Will Devitt to lock up the house and blow out the lights. The
four young men still occupied the parlor, and the steady cadence of
their voices came down to her. Will Devitt had supplied their order at
the commencement, so that it was unnecessary to give them any further
attention. It had been the rule for young John Keene and hi