Tom,' cries the mistress, authoritatively.

Tom gives a knowing wink to the nearest girl, mutters, 'Irish again,'
and goes to his mistress.

'See if there is good clean straw spread in the barn, Tom, and make
haste.'

Tom goes to a large building outside the farm-yard, whither his mistress
and the rest follow him.

'Plenty of straw, ma'am, good enough for such folk,' says Tom.

'Spread some more, and shut the window in the loft.'

This is done in a slow grumbling way.

The barn is a large, clean, airy building, that must look like a palace
to these ragged, way-worn people.

'Now you may sleep here to-night, provided you go off early and quietly
to-morrow morning. There is a good pump down below, where you can get
water to wash yourselves, and at eight o'clock I shall lock the barn
door; my husband always insists upon that.' Thus speaks the mistress.

'Heaven bless his honour, we're all honest. We wouldn't harm a hair of
your blessed heads. We heerd o' ye many a time, and o' the good lodgin'
and supper--the sun shine upon ye--ye give to the poor Irish on their
thravels.' Thus answers the Irishwoman.

'You tell one another then! And this is why we have more calls than any
one else!'

'The Lord love ye, and why wouldn't we? 'Tis the good as always gets the
blessin'.'

Whilst this little conversation is going on, the girl, Gladys, is laid
upon the shawl-blanket of the woman who wears that singular attire, and
a pillow, half rags, half straw, is contrived for her head. The bonnet
is taken off to increase her comfort, and, as her head falls languidly
back upon the rough pillow, a wan, thin face is disclosed, that, from
the regular outline of the profile, must be pretty, under happier
circumstances, and is interesting.

Whilst the guests prepare to make themselves comfortable in different
ways, the kindly farm-lady leaves them, amid many and enthusiastic
blessings, and returns to the house.

In less than half-an-hour she reappears, followed by a female servant,
both carrying tokens of a true hospitality that expects no return. She
goes towards the poor girl with a small basin of good broth and a plate
of toasted bread, such as might tempt the palate of a more dainty
invalid; whilst the servant places a can of real Welsh broth, smelling
strongly of the country emblem, the leek, in the midst of the hungry
crew who are scattered over the barn. To this she adds various scraps of
coarse bread and hard cheese, whic