The shallows of the human heart are at least as difficult to sound as its depths, and Micky Macartney's was quite beyond me.

One thing about the letter was true enough.

As he said, it would "plaze the ould craythur intirely." By the time I had addressed it, "Mrs.Biddy Macartney, coffee-seller," to the care of the Dockgate-keeper, we had not much spare time left in which to stamp and post it, so we took leave of the owner of the pop-shop.

He was now very unwilling to let us go.

He did not ask another question about his mother, but he was consumed with trivial curiosity about us.