tormented her for her absolute
lack of knowledge. Peg put up with that just as long as she could. Then
one day she opened out on them and astonished them. They could not have
been more amazed had a bomb exploded in their midst. The little,
timid-looking, open-eyed, Titian-haired girl was a veritable virago.
She attacked and belittled, and mimicked and berated them. They had
talked of her BROGUE! They should listen to their own nasal utterances,
that sounded as if they were speaking with their noses and not with
their tongues! Even the teacher did not go unscathed. She came in for
an onslaught, too. That closed Peg's career as a New York student.

Her father arranged his work so that he could be with her at certain
periods of the day, and outlined her studies from his own slender stock
of knowledge. He even hired a little piano for her and followed up what
he had begun years before in Ireland--imbuing her with a thorough
acquaintance with Moore and his delightful melodies.

One wonderful day they had an addition to their small family. A little,
wiry-haired, scrubby, melancholy Irish terrier followed O'Connell for
miles. He tried to drive him away. The dog would turn and run for a few
seconds and the moment O'Connell would take his eyes off him he would
run along and catch him up and wag his over-long tail and look up at
O'Connell with his sad eyes. The dog followed him all the way home and
when O'Connell opened the door he ran in. O'Connell Had not the heart
to turn him out, so he poured out some milk and broke up some dry
biscuits for him and then played with him until Peg came home. She
liked the little dog at once and then and there O'Connell adopted him
and gave him to Peg. He said the dog's face had a look of Michael
Quinlan, the Fenian. So "Michael" he was named and he took his place in
the little home. He became Peg's boon companion. They romped together
like children, and they talked to each other and understood each other.
"Michael" had an eloquent tail, an expressive bark and a pair of eyes
that told more than speech.

The days flowed quietly on, O'Connell apparently satisfied with his
lot. But to Peg's sharp eye all was not well with him. There was a
settled melancholy about him whenever she surprised him thinking alone.
She thought he was fretting for Ireland and their happy days together
and so said nothing.

He was really worrying over Peg's future. He had such a small amount of
money put by, and worki