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Stiffening himself therefore and again resuming his lofty tone, he proceeded: "Indeed I am truly grateful to you, Miss Rorke, for all your goodness an' all ye done for me father and mother. Jack McEvoy's afther tellin' me that they are in the height o' comfort. Indeed I'd never have thought of lookin' for them there at all; I never have expected you to be puttin' yourself about that way for them."

"Is it who was in the dining-room, your Reverence?" asked Julia, in tones of respectful honey; "sure that was the carpenter's boy, that came to quinch a rat-hole. Sure we're destroyed with rats." "But," pursued the Dean, raising his voice to overcome Miss McEvoy's continuous screams of explanation to Mrs. Doherty, "I understand that he left the room on his hands and knees.

Tell me that if ye plase." "Sure them hayricks often and often goes on fire of themselves," retorted Mrs. Clancy, flushed and tearful; "ye know that as well as me, Pat. Weren't they at the loss of a lovely stack down there at McEvoy's, four year ago? No, it was five, I believe look at that now." Pat laughed derisively.

When he was gone Thady was once more alone and in solitude; moreover, he felt strongly the gloom of the big cold walls around him of the huge locks which kept him the austerity and discomforts of prison discipline, and all the miseries of confinement; but yet even there, in gaol and committed to take his trial for life though doomed to the monotony of that dull cell for six months still he felt infinitely less wretched than he had done whilst sitting in Andy McEvoy's cabin, wondering at the torpidity of its owner.

Miss McEvoy's reply was to us about as coherent as the shrieks of a parrot, but we plainly heard Julia murmur in the kitchen: "May the devil choke ye!" Then again the Dean, this time near the kitchen door. "Julia! Where is the man who was secreted under the dinner-table?" I gripped Robert's arm. The issues of life and death were now in Julia's hands.

"'Pon me word, Mary, you have no more sense nor herself there," nodding towards Judy. "Sure, McEvoy's rick took fire because they were afther stackin' it, an' it wet. Whoever heard of a three-year-old rick takin' fire of itself, an' every bit of it as dry as a bone?" "Troth it was," put in Judy, "powerful dry, ma'am.

"And the quarest part of it was that Joe McEvoy's ould cow that he went after had legged herself up, somehow, on the rocks out of reach, and niver a harm on her when they found her in the mornin'. But she'd been all of a could quiver ever since, and himself doubted if she'd rightly git over it might the divil mend her, and she after bein' the death of a fine young man.

"Musha, now I'll be skivered," said Mick, standing still, "if that's not Joe McEvoy's ould cow. You 'll be apt to experience a dampin', ould woman, if you don't quit out of there. Whethen, it's a quare man he is to lave the baste sthrayin' about permiscuous in the welther of the tide."

Such was the purport of Mrs. Duggan's remarks, which were punctuated by Joe McEvoy's peremptory requests that she would lave gabbin' and givin' impidence, and his appeals to the others to inform him whether they weren't all to be pitied for havin' to put up wid the ould screech-owl's foolish talk. "Sure, that's the way they do be keepin' it up continial, Micky lad," Mrs.