"An' isn't it bacomin' that the wife uv yer bossum and the childer should share yer holiday, an' hilp yer to spind yer money, me bhoy?" "I can't say as it isn't," frankly replied John; "but some wives is different to others; and mine just nags and worrits and gives a feller no peace of his life, and the children takes after her." "Shure, an' what does she nag and worrit ye about thin?" asked Tim, with a twinkle in his eye; but at that moment John shouldered his empty hod and disappeared. "The ould sthory, shure an' certin," muttered Tim, and in his honest, kindly heart, for the hundredth time, revolved many a scheme for helping and stimulating his fellow-workman to a better life. The breakfast bell presently rang, and John Jarvis, who lived at a little distance, threw himself at full length upon some boards, grumbling at his wife for being late with his breakfast. "Maybe she's wearied herself wid followin' ye an' yer half dozen brats yester," dryly suggested Tim, as he threw down his trowel and strode away to his cottage home close by, where a plentiful meal awaited him. Certainly, when he met Mrs. Jarvis the next minute, she looked sufficiently white and fagged to justify his suggestion. "Mornin' to ye," he said, nodding and hurrying by. But Tim's cottage lay in Mrs. Jarvis's homeward way, and as her lagging footsteps passed the door, the buxom form of Tim's wife appeared. "Come in, an' rist ye a spell, Mrs. Jarvis; ye look more fit for yer bed nor to be draggin' about at all, at all." "It's just what I am. I'm sure I don't know what's coming to me," exclaimed Mrs. Jarvis, as she dropped into a chair. "Give her a dhrop uv tay, Peggy, an' she'll ravive a bit," said Tim. "You're very kind, Tim. Why, this tea is real good, as good as what the gentry drinks. I feel quite a different creature after it, I declare;" and Mrs. Jarvis presently set down her empty cup with a surprised air. "I can't think how you manage, Mrs. Maloney. Here's your husband earning the same wages as mine, yet you can afford to live a sight better than us; you're better dressed too, and what a fine place you've got; and isn't that pig in the garden yours?" Mrs. Jarvis's eyes had roamed from the bright, clean kitchen, through the open window to the well-stocked garden, where, in a corner, stood a sty, the occupant of which was rooting and grunting in the manner peculiar to his kind. "Indade, an' ye're rayte; a fine porker he is too. I'll sind ye up a bit whin we kill, an' ye shall tasthe for yerself." "Thank you kindly, Tim. It's not often we can afford to indulge in a bit of bacon now. Times are so hard, you see," returned Mrs. Jarvis, with a look of still deeper perplexity upon her face as she rose to go. Tim whispered to his wife who nodded, and then turned to Mrs. Jarvis, saying: "Now, don't ye be thrudgin' up wid yer husban's bit uv dinner. My Tim'll bring him home, an' he's kindly wilcome to the bist of our purvidin'."