mother? Has anything happened?"

"I've got through working for Mrs. Preston, Andy."

"Got through? For to-day, you mean?"

"No; I'm not going to work there again."

"Why not?"

"She complained of you, Andy."

"What did she say, mother?" asked our hero, listening with attention.

"She said you ought not to have struck Godfrey."

"Did you tell her he struck me first?"

"Yes, I did."

"And what did she say, thin?"

"She said that you ought not to have struck him back."

"And what did you say, mother?"

"I said my Andy wasn't the boy to stand still and let anybody beat
him."

"Good for you, mother! Bully for you! That's where you hit the nail on
the head. And what did the ould lady say then?"

"She told me I needn't come there again to work."

"I'm glad you're not goin', mother. I don't want you to work for the
likes of her. Let her do her own ironin', the ould spalpeen!"

In general, Andy's speech was tolerably clear of the brogue, but
whenever he became a little excited, as at present, it was more
marked. He was more angry at the slight to his mother than he would
have been at anything, however contemptuous, said to himself. He had
that chivalrous feeling of respect for his mother which every boy of
his age ought to have, more especially if that mother is a widow.

"But, Andy, I'm very sorry for the money I'll lose."

"How much is it, mother?"

"Seventy-five cents."

"I'll make it up, mother."

"I know you will if you can, Andy; but work is hard to get, and the
pay is small."

"You might go back and tell Mrs. Preston that I'm a dirty spalpeen,
and maybe she'd take you back, mother."

"I wouldn't slander my own boy like that if she'd take me back twenty
times."

"That's the way to talk, mother," said Andy, well pleased. "Don't you
be afeared--we'll get along somehow. More by token, here's three
dollars I brought home with me yisterday."

Andy pulled out from his pocket six silver half-dollars, and offered
them to his mother.

"Where did you get them, Andy?" she asked, in surprise.

"Where did I get them? One way and another, by overwork. We won't
starve while them last, will we?"

Andy's cheerful tone had its effect upon his mother.

"Perhaps you're right, Andy," she said, smiling. "At any rate we won't
cry till it's time."

"To-morrow I'll go out and see if I can find work."

"Suppose you don't find it, Andy?" suggested his sister.

"Then I'll take in washing," said Andy, laugh