As she and Miss Usher stood talking, it never seemed to have occurred to Mary Foley, that she was lacking in hospitality or good manners. As she remained discussing the engrossing romance with his sister, it struck Mr. Usher that Mary preferred to lounge against the table descanting and listening, and lacked the true Irish instinct, which instantly offers a welcome, a seat, and, if possible, refreshment. His quick, grey eyes wandered round the room, and noted its contents. It was of a good size; the furniture was strong and useful, but a tub with a half-washed gown stood near the window; the floor was littered with sticks and cabbage leaves. It was plain that Mary’s little hands were incapable of rough work! But he noticed some pathetic attempts at decoration: the dresser exhibited a large bunch of wild flowers; on the walls was a considerable gallery of coloured pictures, cut from the illustrated papers; the window curtains were white, and looped back with strips of pink calico. As the visitor stood staring about the half-door was thrown back with a kick, and a thin, tall, peevish-looking woman, with a basket on her arm and a shawl over her frilled cap, entered, immediately followed by a red terrier. For a moment she stood aghast, then recovered and said, “Yer servant, ma’am--yer servant, sir,” as she dropped two curtseys, and deposited her load with an air of relief. “Mary, me girl,” turning to her niece, “where’s yer manners? Won’t the lady take a sate?” Mary coloured guiltily as she dusted and offered a chair. “Faix, I’m forgetting myself. Rap”--aside to the dog, who was sniffing the visitors--“behave yerself! Ma’am, I beg your pardon, but the house is all upset, and through other, it being washing day.” “Lord save us! the cakes is a cinder!” cried the new arrival, hurrying to the fire. “Mary, girl, I lay my life you’ve been reading a book. Bedad, ma’am”--turning to Miss Usher--“if she was as good a hand at rearing pigs and calves as she is for reading and rearing flowers, we’d all be in clover. Oh, but she’s the terrible girl for a story----” As she spoke Mrs. Grogan made a desperate attempt to tidy up the place, carried away the tub, and endeavoured with all the strength of her lungs to rekindle a few sods.