"I suppose, Molly," said Reilly, "you are surprised at a visit from me just now ?" "You know, Mr.Reilly," she replied, "that if you came in the deadest hours of the night you'd be welcome, as I said--and this poor man is welcome too--sit over to the fire, poor man, and warm yourself.

Maybe you're hungry; if you are I'll get you something to eat." "Many thanks to you, ma'am," replied Fergus, "I'm not a taste hungry, and could ait nothing now; I'm much obliged to you at the same time." "Mr.Reilly, maybe you'd like to ait a bit.

I can give you a farrel of bread, and a sup o' nice goat's milk.

God preserve him from evil that gave me the same goats, and that's your four quarthers, Mr.Reilly.

But sure every thing I have either came or comes from your hand; and if I can't thank you, God will do it for me, and that's betther still." "No more about that, Molly--not a word more.