ess of the cimet'ry. There was plenty here knowing to Ann Bogan
once. That 'oman is one I 've seen long ago, but I can't name her yet.
Did she say who she was?" asked the neighbor.

"She did n't; I 'm sorry for the poor 'oman, too," continued Mrs.
Dunleavy, in the same spirit of friendliness. "She 'd the expectin'
look of one who came hoping to make a nice visit and find friends, and
herself lugging a fine bundle. She 'd the looks as if she 'd lately
come out; very decent, but old-fashioned. Her bonnet was made at home
annyways, did ye mind? I 'll lay it was bought in Cork when it was
new, or maybe 'twas from a good shop in Bantry or Kinmare, or some o'
those old places. If she 'd seemed satisfied to wait, I 'd made her
the offer of a cup of tay, but off she wint with great courage."

"I don't know but I 'll slip on me bonnet in the afthernoon and go find
her," said Biddy Connelly, with hospitable warmth. "I 've seen her
before, perhaps 't was long whiles ago at home."

"Indeed I thought of it myself," said Mrs. Dunleavy, with approval.
"We 'd best wait, perhaps, till she 'd be coming back; there's no train
now till three o'clock. She might stop here till the five, and we 'll
find out all about her. She 'll have a very lonesome day, whoiver she
is. Did you see that old goat 'ating the best of me fairy-fingers that
all bloomed the day?" she asked eagerly, afraid that the conversation
might come to an end at any moment; but Mrs. Connelly took no notice of
so trivial a subject.

"Me melons is all getting ripe," she announced, with an air of
satisfaction. "There 's a big one must be ate now while we can; it's
down in the cellar cooling itself, an' I 'd like to be dropping it,
getting down the stairs. 'Twas afther picking it I was before
breakfast, itself having begun to crack open. Himself was the b'y that
loved a melon, an' I ain't got the heart to look at it alone. Coom
over, will ye, Mary?"

"'Deed then an' I will," said Mrs. Dunleavy, whose face was close
against the mosquito netting. "Them old pumpkin vines was no good anny
way; did you see how one of them had the invintion, and wint away up on
the fince entirely wit' its great flowers, an' there come a rain on
'em, and so they all blighted? I 'd no call to grow such stramming
great things in my piece annyway, 'ating up all the goodness from me
beautiful cabbages."

III.

That afternoon the reunited friends sat banqueting together and keepi