THE MEET OF THE HOUNDS in 



own hand. Sure, it's not from an3rwliere in these 

 parts you've come from? " 



She was peering up from under her bonnet at 

 the girl's face, and Violet, fascinated by that 

 teiTible purblind gaze, thought that she had never 

 seen tragedy written on a human countenance so 

 plainly as on the stone-like mask which the red 

 ghmmer of the turf fire showed up to her beneath 

 the bonnet of the old woman. 



" No," said she; " I come from America." 

 "Ohone!" cried Mrs Moriarty, "Sure, it's 

 there me boy Mike went forty years ago — forty 

 years ago, and niver a word or a letther from him 

 for twenty long years. Maybe you never chanced 

 to hear of him, miss? He was in the bricklayin . 

 Six fut six he stood widout his brogues, and the 

 lovely red hair on the head of him was curly as a 

 rethraver's back. And, sure, what am I talkin' 

 about? It's grey he'd be now — ohone! — afther 

 all thim years." 



" No," said the girl, " I never heard of him, but 

 America is a big place. Cheer up. You may 

 hear of him yet, and here's something that may 

 bring you luck." 



She took a shilling from the pocket of her covert 

 coat and put it in the hand of the old woman, who 

 took it and blessed her, and wrapped it in a scrap 

 of paper. 



" The blessin's of God on you, and may the 

 divil bile his pot wid the man that decaves you. 

 Oh, sure, it's the face of a shiUin' I haven't seen 



