usha, but it would be the beautiful joke,
all out, if he'd disappoint the whole of yez. Faix, it wouldn't be
unlike the same man, to go wherever he can make most money; and sure
small blame to him for that; what's one place to him more than another?"

"Hut," M'Kenna replied, rising, however, to go out himself, "the
girsha's makin' a _bauliore_ (* laughing stock) of herself."

"An' where's yourself slippin' out to?" rejoined his wife, with a wink
of shrewd humor at the rest. "I say, Frank, are you goin' to look for
him too? Mavrone, but that's sinsible! Why, thin, you snakin' ould
rogue, is that the way wid you? Throth I have often hard it said, that
'one fool makes many;' but sure enough, 'an ould fools worse nor any.'
Come in here this minute, I say--walk back--you to have your horn up!
Faix, indeed!"

"Why! I am only goin' to get the small phaties boiled for the pigs, poor
crathurs, for their Christmas dinner. Sure we oughtn't to neglect thim
no more than ourselves, the crathurs, that can't spake their wants,
except by grantin'."

"Saints above!--the Lord forgive me for bringin' down their names upon
a Christmas Eve, but it's beside himself the man is! an' him knows
that the phaties wor boiled an' made up into balls for them airly this
mornin'!"

In the meantime, the wife's good-natured attack upon her husband
produced considerable mirth in the family. In consequence of what she
said, he hesitated: but ultimately was proceeding towards the door,
when the daughter returned, her brow flushed, and her eye sparkling with
mirth and delight.

"Ha!" said the father, with a complacent smile, "all's right, Peggy, you
seen him, alanna. The music's in your eye, acushla; an' the' feet of you
can't keep themselves off o' the ground; an' all bekase you seen Barny
Dhal (* blind Barney) pokin' acrass the fields, wid his head up, an'
his skirt stickn' out behind him wid Granua Waile." (* The name of his
fiddle)

The father had conjectured properly, for the joy which animated the
girl's countenance could not be misunderstood.

"Barny's comin'," she exclaimed, clapping her hands with great glee,
"an' our Frank wid him; they're at the river, and Frank has him on his
back, and Granua Waile undhor his arm! Come out, come out! You'll die
for good, lookin' at them staggerin' acrass. I knew he'd come! I knew
it! and be good to thim that invinted Christmas; it's a brave time,
faix!"

In a moment the inmates were grouped before the