"Well, well, come with me to my room. I will make you a bed on the floor, and you shall sleep there." "Sure, sure, Heaven will bless you; and if you knew all you would forgive me, for I am not so bad as you think I am, or as that woman thinks I am." "Oh, never mind what she says, she has a good heart after all. Come, come along with me." "Did you ever see the like of it. She is going to take that thing to her room, a miserable tramper; I dare say the house will be robbed before morning. I will pick up the spoons, and lock all the closets, before I go to bed again. Dear me, did anybody ever see such a woman as that? She never sees a woman in rags, but she wants to pull off her shawl, and give her. I dare say, she won't let this girl out of the house to-morrow till she has all her draggled clothes washed and fixed up, and may be then will send for a carriage to take her away. It is a great plague to anybody to have such a tender heart. It is all the time getting them into trouble. "There, now I believe the silver is all safe, but mercy knows what will become of this night's adventure. So much for getting drunk. What does anybody want to get drunk for? There was McTravers, the brute, always getting drunk. I am sure, I love a little bitters to clear my throat in the morning, and a glass or two of wine at dinner, and a little hot stuff as I am going to bed, but as for getting drunk--bah--I hate anybody that gets drunk. Oh, dear, this night air, I wish I had not wasted all the hot water on the drunken dogs, for I do feel as though I wanted a dram now, and no more water--what will I do? I must take a little cold, or I shall not sleep a wink to-night. Bah, how I hate drunkards." What for, Mrs. McTravers, why should you hate your own manufacture? Let the reader reflect; there is a night before him. When the curtain rises, we shall see what the author saw last night. CHAPTER XV. LITTLE KATY'S MOTHER. "A true devoted pilgrim is not weary, To measure kingdoms with his steps." When Mrs. McTravers told me that Mrs. De Vrai had sent a message for me, I was too weary to measure steps along a few blocks; but when I read those three little magic words, weariness had gone. Bridget thought so too. "He is gone, ma'am." Yes, he was gone, gone abroad at midnight with a merry heart. "A merry heart goes all day, Your sad one tires in a mile."