med of their sister.

"I'm thinkin' she's not dead at all," Jane went on.

"Whisht, Jane; are ye clean mad?" Mick remonstrated. Samuel stopped
crying. "Can't ye see for yerself she's dead right enough?" he said.

"I'd be surer if I seen her face," said Jane.

Mick in disgust turned to go, but Jane stood still.

"Wait a minute till I fix this flower that's fallen out," she said,
noting with satisfaction that Samuel looked uneasy. She watched the
figure under the sheet, and made sure it was breathing regularly then
she took a pin out of her dress, and bent over to arrange the wreath.
Suddenly her hand dropped on the sheet. There was a yell of pain, and
the corpse sat bolt upright. Samuel's fraud was laid bare. His dead
mother was a man with a black beard.

"God forgive ye, ye near tuk the leg aff me," he shouted, "jabbin' pins
into a buddy like that."

"Shame on ye!"--Jane's eyes blazed; "lettin' on to be dead; I've the
quare good mind to tell the polis." She turned to Samuel, but he had
gone. Patsy had gone too; only Mick stood there, with a white, scared
face.

"Come on ar this for a polisman," she said wrathfully, and swept Mick
before her. The corpse was still rubbing his leg. Out on the street
the women crowded round to know what had happened. Jane pushed her way
through them.

"I think ye all a pack a' rogues," was the only answer she would give
to their questions. Patsy was nowhere to be seen, so they turned
sorrowfully homeward, to tell Lull for what they had parted with their
savings. Patsy followed them a few hours later. He had been looking
for Samuel to beat him, but Samuel had got away. He never came back to
Rowallan. They watched for him for weeks, but never saw him again.
The thought of the first beating Patsy had given him was the only
satisfaction they ever got from the memory of Samuel Brown.

CHAPTER VI

THE BEST FINDER

The children had gone on an excursion that would have been too far for
Honeybird, and had left her playing on the grassy path. It was a
favourite place, especially in May, when the apple-trees, that made a
thick screen on one side, were in blossom, and the grass was starred
with dandelions and daisies. There was not a safer spot in the garden,
the hedge was thick, the path was sunny, and it was a part ould Davy,
the cross gardener, never came near. Patsy had allowed her to play
with his rabbits and call them hers while he was away. He had carried