act that her husband had been the son of
the richest farmer in all the countryside, and did not care to keep up
appearances, all her energies being devoted to the struggle for daily
bread; nevertheless, the short red flannel frock was as becoming to
Roseen as any more elegant garment could have been, and when she
approached the hearth and sat down on the three-legged stool by Pat's
side, he breathed a blessing on her pretty face that was as admiring
as it was fervent.

Crossing one shapely sunburnt leg over the other, and gazing pensively
at the smouldering turf sods, she heaved a deep sigh.

"They're afther goin' out an' lavin' me," she lamented.

"Did they, asthore? Sure they had a right to have taken ye along wid
them. Where are they gone to at all, alanna?"

"Me mother's after goin' to the town to buy a bit o' bread, an' Judy's
streeled off with herself, goodness knows where, wid her ould pipe in
her pocket. Dear knows when she'll be back; an' she bid me stop at
home an' mind the fire, but I come away out o' that as soon as her
back was turned."

The bright eyes glanced defiantly at the old man and then suddenly
clouded over; the corners of the little mouth began to droop, and the
small bare shoulders to heave.

"They'd no call to go lavin' me all by meself."

"Troth they hadn't, mavourneen," agreed Pat, clackling his tongue
sympathetically. "It was too hard on ye, altogether, but sure you
won't cry now, there's a good little girl; crying never done any one a
ha'porth o' good yit. Look at me here wid all my ould bones broke; I
might cry the two eyes out o' my head an' never a wan at all ud' get
mended for me."

Roseen sat up blinking. "Did it hurt ye much, Misther Clancy, when
your bones was broke on ye?"

"Is it hurt, bedad! Ye'd hear me bawlin' up at the crass roads. Sure I
thought it was killed I was! My ancistor couldn't have shouted louder
when he had the Earl Strongbow's spear stuck in him. Will I tell ye
about that, alanna, to pass the time till herself comes in?"

Roseen shook her head discontentedly.

"I know that story," she said. "I wisht ye'd tell me about the Spider
an' the Gout though, Misther Clancy. Ah do, an' I'll sit here
listenin' as quiet as a mouse."

Pat rubbed his unshaven chin with the lean fingers of his one
serviceable hand, the bristles of his week-old beard making a rasping
sound the while, and glanced down sideways at the eager little
petitioner.

"Is it the Spider an'