LADY DOBEEN's SORROW. 153 



drag home in the morning, I must have drained a 

 little. He was as likely a pig as yez ever saw, and 

 I was listenin' proudly to his swate cries as I carried 

 him from the sty, and feelin' frill enough of enthusiasm 

 to stay there a hundred years. Just then there was 

 a rustlin' in front, and I opened my eyes wide, and 

 there stood the old house-keeper leanin' against the 

 shaky clock, with her ear to its yellow face, and 

 lookin' straight behind me to where I could feel the 

 master was sittin'. There was an awful light in her 

 eyes, and I thought I heard her say — any way, I 

 knew she was sayin' it — ' Hark, Sir Donald, they 're 

 comin', but the soldiers will be here, too, at twelve.' 

 An' then there was a sort of shudder in the old clock 

 and it commenced a wheezin' an bangin' away, a 

 tryin' to get through the strokes of twelve, as it did 

 twenty years before. But it hadn't got out half, 

 when I heard the crowd outside scrapin' against the 

 window sill. An' then there come a report, and the 

 room was filled with smoke, an' somethin' hit the 

 back of my head. How I got out I do n't know, but 

 when I come to mvself I was running for dear life 

 across the common. I have the scar of the ghost's 

 bullet ever since. See here, yez can see it for your- 

 selves." And taking off his cap, Shamus showed us 

 a bald spot about the size of a silver dollar on the 

 back of his cranium. 



"And what became of the pig?" asked Mr. Colon 

 quietly. 



" Faith, an' my cousin carried him home next 

 morning," replied Shamus, with a regretful sigh ; 

 "and lady Dobeen, bless her sowl, never forgot to 



