Owing to her unsettled life, and her habit of passing from place to place, she was well acquainted with local history.

There lived scarcely a family within a very wide circle about her, of whom she did not know every thing that could possibly be known; a fact of which she judiciously availed herself by allusions in general conversations that were understood only by those whom they concerned.

These mysterious hints, oracularly thrown out, gained her the reputation of knowing more than mere human agency could acquire, and of course she was openly conciliated and secretly hated.
Her conversation with the menials of the inn was very short and decisive.
"Sheemus," said she to the person who acted in the capacity of waiter, "where's Meehaul Neil ?" "Troth, Nell, dacent woman," replied the other, "myself can't exactly say that.

I'll be bound he's on the _Esker_, looking afther the sheep, poor crathurs, durin' Andy Connor's illness in the small-pock.

Poor Andy's very ill, Nell, an' if God hasn't sed it, not expected; glory be to his name!" "Is Andy ill ?" inquired Nell; "and how long ?" "Bedad, going on ten days." "Well," said the woman, "I knew nothin' about that; but I want to see Meehaul Neil, and I know he's in the house." "Faix he's not, Nelly, an' you know I wouldn't tell you a lie about it." "Did you get the linen that was stolen from your masther ?" inquired Nell significantly, turning at the same time a piercing glance on the waiter; "an' tell me," she added, "how is Sally Lavery, and where is she ?" "It wasn't got," he replied, in a kind of stammer; "an' as to Sally, the nerra one o' me knows any thing about her, since she left this." "Sheemus," replied Nell, "you know that Meehaul Neil is in the house; but I'll give you two choices, either to bring me to the speech of him, or else I'll give your masther the name of the thief that stole his linen; ay! the name of the thief that resaved it.