light up so quickly, or ye might have missed us,
not knowin' yer road. An' how's all wid ye, me dear--Miss Barbara, an'
the masther, an' the darling childher? I've a Brammy cock and a hen that
I'm thinkin' of takin' down to Masther Tommy this two weeks, but the
ould mare is mighty quare on her legs o' late. Are ye all well?"

"Quite well, thank you, Mrs. Connolly."

"Wisha--God keep ye so."

"And how are all of you? When did you hear from America?"

"Last month thin--divil a less; an' the greatest news of all! A letther
from Johnny--me eldest boy--wid a five-pound note in it, an' a picther
of the girl he's goin' to marry. I declare to ye when that letther came
I just fell into a chair an' tuk to laughin' an' cryin' till that
ounchal of a girl in the kitchen began to bate me on the back, thinkin'
I was bad in a fit. To think, me dear, of little Johnneen I used to
nurse on me knee thinkin' of takin' a partner. An' a sthrappin' fine
girl too, fegs, wid cheeks like turnips. But there, now, I'll show her
to ye by-and-by. She's a raal beauty if them porthraits be thrue, but
there's a lot o' lies comes from over the wather. An' what'll ye be
takin' now, Miss Joyce dear?"--with a return to her hospitable mood--"a
dhrop o' hot punch, now? Whiskey is the finest thing out for givin' the
good-bye to the cowld."

"Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. Connolly"--hastily--"if I might have a cup of
tea, I----"

"Arrah, bad cess to that tay! What's the good of it at all at all to a
frozen stomach? Cowld pison, I calls it. Well, there! Have it yer own
way! An' come along down wid me, now, an' give yerself to the
enthertainin' of Misther Beauclerk, whilst I wet the pot. Glory! what a
man he is!--the size o' the house! A fine man, in airnest. Tell me now,"
with a shrewd glance at Joyce, "is there anything betwixt you and him?"

"Nothing!" says Joyce, surprised even herself by the amount of vehement
denial she throws into this word.

"Oh, well, there's others! An' Mr. Dysart would be more to my fancy.
There's a nate man, if ye like, be me fegs!" with a second half sly,
wholly kindly, glance at the girl. "If 'twas he, now, I'd give ye me
blessin' wid a heart and a half. An' indeed, now, Miss Joyce, 'tis time
ye were thinkin' o' settlin'."

"Well, I'm not thinking of it this time," says Joyce, laughing, though a
little catch in her throat warns her she is not far from tears. Perhaps
Mrs. Connolly hears that little catch, too, for she instantly c