ent wall, on one side, threw a
shadow on the path, making it dark even in daylight; on the other side
was a deep ditch. The children ran as fast as they could till they
came to the end of the wall, when the path turned across the open
fields to the farm. They knew no place that looked so clean and bright
as that whitewashed house on the brow of the hill. After the gloom of
the loney the low, white garden wall, the fuchsia bushes, the beds of
yellow marigolds seemed to smile at them in a glow of sunlight. Aunt
Mary was waiting at the half-door, quieting the dogs, that had been
roused from their sleep in front of the kitchen fire. Aunt Mary was a
little woman with a soft voice; she wore her hair parted down the
middle, and brushed back till it shone like silk. When she had kissed
them all she took them upstairs to her bedroom to take off their
things. Jane always said she would be feared to death to sleep in Aunt
Mary's room. The ceiling sloped down on one side, and in under it
there was a window looking across the fields to the river and the big
dark mountains beyond. To-day the window was open, and they could hear
the noise the river made as it fell at the weir. Jane listened a
minute, then turned away. "I hate it," she said; "it's like a mad,
wild woman cryin'."

"Don't, Jane," Mick said sharply. That mournful sound had made him
unhappy again about Pat.

"Come on out of that," said Patsy, "an' let's get some pears."

Aunt Mary always allowed them to play in the room where the apples and
pears were stored. Besides apples and pears there were two wooden
boxes full of clothes to dress up in--stiff, old-fashioned silks,
Indian muslins, embroidered jackets, and a pair of white kid boots.
Aunt Mary had worn these things when she was young and lived at
Rowallan, before she turned to be a Roman Catholic and was driven out
by her father. When they were tired of play they came downstairs to
the parlour. This, they thought, was the most beautiful room in the
world. There was a carpet with a wreath of roses on a grey ground, a
cupboard with diamond panes, where Aunt Mary kept her china, and the
deep window seat was filled with geraniums. Aunt Mary had a birthday
present for Honeybird; she kissed her when she gave it; and said: "God
and His Blessed Mother keep you, child." Then she cried a little, till
they all felt inclined to cry with her. But she jumped up, and said it
was time she baked the soda bread for