is a deaf harmless thing--hush! I hear steps.
Oh, in mercy fly!"

"Not without your promise," he said doggedly.

"I am ready, I promise--next time we meet; now farewell and away," said
Katey, while she waved one hand to the departing fugitive as he dashed
through the thicket, and placed the other on the roaring mouth of the
creature at her side, whose terrors seemed under considerable
self-control, for they at once subsided.

"Mother o' Grace, pray for us now an' at the hour ov our death, amen!"
mumbled the Bundle, as it righted itself, and assumed the appearance of a
withered and ancient little Woman, who, in flinging back her dark blue
cloak to adjust herself, exhibited a small scarecrow frame, round which
was hung, until its shape became orbicular, every variety of feminine
attire, from the petticoats, under, upper, and quilted, through the higher
gradations of gown, apron, spencer, jacket, pelerine, handkerchief, and
shawl. A broad leathern strap was buckled round her waist, from which on
one side hung a rosary or string of large beads, to the other was fastened
a _canteen_ or tin can without a cover, containing a large supply of holy
water, procured from the neighbouring chapels on Sundays. She bore in her
hand literally nothing but (as they would say in Ireland) her _fist_,
which was of immense size, and of whose convenience for the purposes of
aspergation Katey and her friend had just been afforded such convincing
proof.

Footsteps now approached rapidly, and Miss Tyrrel, holding Sally-the-tin
by the arm, turned towards home. She was shortly encountered by a
lively-voiced gentlemanly young man, who saluted her in an affectionate
tone with "Katey, pet, what on earth has kept you out so late. Hallo!
Sally, I bar that!" he exclaimed, adroitly slipping aside, and escaping
the showery blessing which, despite the lesson just bestowed on her, this
incorrigible lady of the Tin had (as was her wont with all she met)
discharged at him. "But did I not hear some one," he continued,
"screeching violently as I came up?"

"Yes, Lysaght," said Miss Tyrrel, "this stupid, deaf, old creature here,
who is a torment to all who meet her, with her benedictions and holy
water, suddenly threw some of the contents of her tin (as she always does
when saluting a person) on a Stranger, a man she happened to be passing
close to, which so irritated him that he has given her a proper fright."

"I could chide you soundly, dear Katey, for s