a complete silence in the kitchen.
He brought forth two coppers and laid them sadly, reproachfully, and yet
defiantly on the table.

"There now," cried Nora, stupefied.

They brought him a bottle of the black brew, and Nora poured it out for
him with her own red hand, which looked to be as broad as his chest. A
collar of brown foam curled at the top of the glass. With measured
moments the old man filled a short pipe. There came a sudden howl from
another part of the inn. One of the pig-buyers was at the head of the
stairs bawling for the mistress. The two women hurriedly freighted
themselves with the roast and the vegetables, and sprang with them to
placate the pig-buyers. Alone, the old man studied the gleam of the fire
on the floor. It faded and brightened in the way of lightning at the
horizon's edge.

When Nora returned, the strapping grenadier of a girl was blushing and
giggling. The pig-buyers had been humorous. "I moind the toime--" began
the man sorrowfully. "I moind the toime whin yea was a wee bit of a
girrl, Nora, an' wouldn't be havin' words wid min loike thim buyers."

"I moind the toime whin yea could attind to your own affairs, ye ould
skileton," said the girl promptly. He made a gesture, which may have
expressed his stirring grief at the levity of the new generation, and
then lapsed into another stillness.

The girl, a giantess, carrying, lifting, pushing, an incarnation of
dauntless labour, changing the look of the whole kitchen with a moment's
manipulation of her great arms, did not heed the old man for a long
time. When she finally glanced toward him, she saw that he was sunk
forward with his grey face on his arms. A growl of heavy breathing
ascended. He was asleep.

She marched to him and put both hands to his collar. Despite his feeble
and dreamy protestations, she dragged him out from behind the table and
across the floor. She opened the door and thrust him into the night.

II.--BALLYDEHOB.

The illimitable inventive incapacity of the excursion companies has made
many circular paths throughout Ireland, and on these well-pounded roads
the guardians of the touring public may be seen drilling the little
travellers in squads. To rise in rebellion, to face the superior clerk
in his bureau, to endure his smile of pity and derision, and finally to
wring freedom from him, is as difficult in some parts of Ireland as it
is in all parts of Switzerland. To see the tourists chained in gangs
an