ss; and then the priest was invited, with much hospitality,
to make himself comfortable. Nor did the luxuries prepared for him
end here; but Fanny, the pretty Fan herself, filled a pipe for him,
and pretended that she would light it, for such priests are merry
enough sometimes, and can joke as well as other men with their pretty
nieces.

"But you're not mixing your punch, Father Bernard," said Mrs.
O'Dwyer, with a plaintive melancholy voice, "and the wather getting
cowld and all! Faix then, Father Bernard, I'll mix it for ye, so
I will." And so she did, and well she knew how. And then she made
another for herself and her niece, urging that "a thimbleful
would do Fanny all the good in life afther her ride acrass them
cowld mountains," and the priest looked on assenting, blowing the
comfortable streams of smoke from his nostrils.

"And so, Father Bernard, you and Parson Townsend is to meet again
to-morrow at Gortnaclough." Whereupon Father Bernard owned that such
was the case, with a nod, not caring to disturb the pipe which lay
comfortably on his lower lip.

"Well, well; only to think on it," continued Mrs. O'Dwyer. "That the
same room should hould the two of ye." And she lifted up her hands
and shook her head.

"It houlds us both very comfortable, I can assure you, Mrs. O'Dwyer."

"And he ain't rampageous and highty-tighty? He don't give hisself no
airs?"

"Well, no; nothing in particular. Why should the man be such a fool
as that?"

"Why, in course? But they are such fools, Father Bernard. They does
think theyselves such grand folks. Now don't they? I'd give a dandy
of punch all round to the company just to hear you put him down once;
I would. But he isn't upsetting at all, then?"

"Not the last time we met, he wasn't; and I don't think he intends
it. Things have come to that now that the parsons know where they are
and what they have to look to. They're getting a lesson they'll not
forget in a hurry. Where are their rent charges to come from--can you
tell me that, Mrs. O'Dwyer?"

Mrs. O'Dwyer could not, but she remarked that pride would always have
a fall. "And there's no pride like Protesthant pride," said Fanny.
"It is so upsetting, I can't abide it." All which tended to show that
she had quite given up her Protestant lover.

"And is it getthing worse than iver with the poor crathurs?" said
Mrs. O'Dwyer, referring, not to the Protestants, but to the victims
of the famine.

"Indeed it's getting no bet