Maggie jerked her flaxen locks backwards with a slightly defiant air, and inquired of her parent if she was comin' on out o' that. Mrs.

Kinsella in return curtly desired her to be off with herself, an' not be standin' there givin' her impidence, an' Mrs. Brophy maybe killin'

herself wonderin' what could be in the letther at all.

Thus adjured, Maggie led the way up a steep and stony path, followed by her mother, Mrs. Murphy, and sundry other of the neighbours, all agog with excitement and curiosity.

Half-way up the rocky hillside they came upon the Brophys' abode, a one-storied cabin, with a cabbage garden, a potato plot, and a scanty patch of wheat climbing up the mountain at the rear.

Dan himself stood in the doorway, eagerly on the lookout for them; while a querulous voice from within warned them that "herself" had reached the limit of her patience.

Entering they descried her--a tiny old woman, bent almost double with age and rheumatism, leaning forward in her elbow-chair with the letter on her knee.

Maggie was hustled to the front and the packet placed in her hand. She turned it over and over, and finally broke the seal.

"It's from America," she said.

"Bedad, alanna, I knew that before," returned old Dan, who was bending over her, his weather-beaten face betraying the utmost mystification.

"Sure all of us knew that," murmured the bystanders.

"Well, give the child time to see what's in it," urged Mrs. Kinsella.

"Father Taylor himself couldn't tell yez what's in a letther before he had it opened."

"Who's it from, Maggie asth.o.r.e? Tell us that much," cried Mrs. Brophy with shrill eagerness.

Maggie drew the letter from the envelope and slowly unfolded it. An enclosure fell out. Several hands were outstretched to catch it, and Mrs. Kinsella succeeded.

"What in the name o' goodness is this?" she asked. "There's print on this. I hope to heaven it's not a summons, or a notice to quit, or anything that way."

"Not at all, not at all," cried Peggy Murphy, "that's an ordher for money. I knew the looks of it the minute I set eyes on it--the very same as wan that Mrs. O'More sent me from Dublin, the price of a pair o' chickens she sent for, afther she went up. Bedad, you're in luck, Dan. How much is it for, now, Maggie?"

"Ah! good gracious! don't be axin' the child them things. Sure how in the world could she tell, an' it afther bein' written in America?--G.o.d bless us! let her have a look at the letther anyhow."

"'My dear uncle and aunt,'" began Maggie, slowly spelling out.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FLITTING OF THE OLD FOLKS "My dear Uncle and Aunt," began Maggie]

Mrs. Brophy uttered a shrill scream, and clapped her hands together.

"It's from Larry! Lord bless an' save us! it's Larry himself, him that I thought in his grave this fifteen year! G.o.d bless us, it's dramin' I am--it can't be true! Dan, d'ye hear that? Good gracious, what's the man thinkin' of, stan'in' there, lookin' about him, the same as if he never heard a thing at all. _Dan_" (with an impatient tug at his sleeve), "d'ye hear what I'm tellin' you? Larry isn't dead at all, an'

he's afther writin' to us from America."

"Well, to be sure," cried Mrs. Kinsella. "Your sister's son, wasn't he, ma'am? La'rence Kearney. A fine young fellow he was, too. He went an' listed on yez, didn't he?"

"Aye, an' she was near breakin' her heart when he done it," chimed in Peggy Murphy; "sure, I remember it well."

Several other bystanders remembered it too, and expressed their sympathy by divers nods and groans; old Dan at last impatiently throwing out his hands for silence.

"Whisht! whisht! we can't be sure whether himself's in it at all yet.

Let the poor little girl be gettin' on wid the letther, can't yez?

Sure maybe it isn't Larry at all."

"Listen to the man, an' him the only nephew that ever we had," began "herself" shrilly; but Maggie's childish pipe, proceeding with the reading, drowned the rest of her remonstrance.

"'I hope you are quite well, as this leaves me at present. You will be very much astonished to get this letter, but when we meet, as I trust we soon shall, I hope to have the pleasure of explainin' to you all that has befell me since I left yous an' my happy home to join her Majesty's corpse!'"

"What's that?" cried Dan in alarm. "Corpse! Didn't I tell yez he was dead?"

"Sure how could he be dead," put in Mrs. Brophy, "when it was himself that wrote the letther? There isn't anythin' about a corpse in it, Maggie asth.o.r.e, is there?"

"'C-o-r-p-s,' spelled out Maggie, "corpse; yes, there it is, as plain as print."

"Sure he manes 'rig'ment,' "shouted out some well-informed person from the background. "'Corpse'--that's what they do be callin' the army."

"Oh, that indeed?" resumed Dan, much relieved. "Go on, Maggie."

"'I am now, however, at the end of my rovin's,'" read the child, "'an'

you'll be glad to hear that I am just afther gettin' married to a very nice young lady, with a good bit o' money of her own. I have also contrived to save a tol'rable sum, an' am now lookin' forward to a life of contentment an' prosperity in the company of my bride.'"

"That's Larry," exclaimed Mrs. Brophy with conviction. "That's himself--the very turn of him. He always had that fashion, ye know, of pickin' out them grand words. I could tell 'twas him the very minit she began, G.o.d bless him."

"'My fond memory, however, turns to them that in the days of my childhood was the same as a father an' a mother to me. I made sure that yous must both be under the daisy-quilt, an' me first thought was to send some money to the reverend gentleman, whoever he may be, that's parish priest in Clonkeen now, an' ax him to put up a rale handsome monument over your remains; but by the greatest good fortune I came across poor Bill Kinsella not long sence, an' he tould me yous were to the fore, an' not a sign o' dyin' on yous yet.'"

"Look at that now," cried Mrs. Kinsella, with shrill glee; "sure that's me own first cousin's son that went over beyant a couple of years ago. Well, now to think--"

"Ah, for goodness' sake, let's hear the end of the letther," cried Dan and his wife together, both violently excited.

"'Me an' me wife both feels,' went on Maggie, 'that we couldn't rest happy unless we made sure that yous ended your days in peace and comfort. This is a big house and a comfortable place, with room an' to spare for the two of yous, and you'll get the warmest of welcomes from nephew and niece. So I am sendin' you the price of your journey, with maybe a few dollars over, for fear you should come short, an' I hope you'll come out by the next boat, for there isn't much time to spare, an' you'll be gettin' too old for travellin'. I will say no more this time, my dear uncle and aunt, but _cead mille failthe_ from your affectionate La'rence Kearney."

"Sure it isn't across the say he wants us to go," cried Dan in dismay; "is it to America?"

"G.o.d bless him!" exclaimed the wife, with fervour; "it's him that always had the good heart. To think of him plannin' an' contrivin'

everythin' that way, even to the monyement."

"I wonder," said Dan regretfully, "what sort of a monyement at all he'd have put over us? 'Pon me word it 'ud have looked elegant beyant."

"Would ye have goold letthers on it, ma'am?" put in Peggy Murphy admiringly. "I seen wan at Kilpedder wan time that I went up when a cousin o' me own was buried, an' it was the loveliest ye ever seen.

There was goold letthers, an' a cra.s.s on the top, an' at the four corners of it there was a kind of an ornamentation the same as a little skull--'pon me word, the natest thing ye could see! No bigger nor me fist, ye know; but all set out elegant with little weeshy-dawshy teeth, all as perfect as ye could imagine. It was some rale grand ould gentleman that was afther puttin' it up for his wife.

I wondher if yez 'ud have had wan made anything that shape."

Dan looked pensive, and rubbed his hands slowly together, tantalised perhaps by the magnificence of the vision; but "herself" shook her head with a proud little smile.

"There's no knowin' what we'd have had," she observed. "Larry said he'd have axed Father Taylor to choose us the best, an' I b'lieve his reverence has very good taste."

"'Deed an' he has, ma'am. But will yez be goin' off wid yourselves to America out o' this?"

"Aye will we," responded Mrs. Brophy, with spirit. "Bedad, if Dan an'

me is ever to see the world it's time we started."

"It's very far off," said poor old Dan nervously; "it's a terrible long way to be goin', alanna. If it wasn't for Larry expectin' us over beyant--"