nsiderin' everythin'; for the same
house would give a snipe a cowld. The blankets are a great comfort.
They're as warm as Injia."

"Oh, I'm glad of that."

She was about to go on her way when Miss Brennan jerked her thumb
backward in the direction of Waterfall Cottage.

"She's gone," she said.

"Who is gone?"

"Mrs. Wade, she calls herself. I knew as soon as ever I laid eyes on
her she was little Bride Sweeney, old Judy Dowd's granddaughter. She
kep' out of the way o' the people that might ha' known her. She
stopped to spake to me one day I was pickin' sticks an' brought me in
an' made me a lovely cup o' tay. She thought I was too old to
remember. The little lady that's at Inch now would be her little girl.
I've seen them together when they didn't know any wan was lookin'.
Them beautiful pink curtains don't meet well. I've seen little Missie
on a footstool before the fire an' the mother adorin' her."

Lady O'Gara was overwhelmed. What had been happening during the
days--there were not twenty of them--since she had first taken Stella
to see Mrs. Wade.

"When little Missie wasn't there Bridyeen would be huggin' the dog the
same as if he was a babby. Some people make too much o' dogs. I kep'
my old Shep tied up till he died. He was wicked and I wasn't afraid o'
tinkers with him about. I saw her once when she didn't think any wan
was peepin' in. She was cryin' on the dog's head an' him standin'
patient, lickin' her now and again with his tongue. I never could bear
the lick of a dog."

Lizzie looked at Lady O'Gara with the most cunning eyes. Apparently
she expected contradiction, but she met with none. Lady O'Gara was in
fact too dumbfounded to answer.

"Many's the time I took notice of Bridyeen," the old woman went on.
"She was well brought up. She respected ould people. When she wint
away out of the place I said nothin', whatever I guessed. I said
nothin' all those years. It was to me she kem when Mr. Terence
Comerford was kilt. 'Tisn't likely I wouldn't know her when I seen her
agin. What's twinty years when you're my age? She didn't say I'd made
a mistake when I called her Bridyeen. She's gone now, an' I'll miss
her. 'Tis a lonesome road without a friend on it, for I'm too ould to
take to an Englishwoman, though yon's a quiet crathur at the lodge."

Lady O'Gara was recovering her power of speech. Still she did not feel
able to contradict this terrible old woman of the bright piercin