Kathleen hung her head. "I finished the stockings before I left Donegal," she replied, "and the peddler said they were well-knit." "Is there bog-land all over Ireland?" asked little Mary Ellen, who knew that her sister did not like to talk about the stockings. "Grandmother Barry used to say that Kilkenny was the most favored county in the country," replied Bee; "and in one of my old reading-books there was a rhyme about Kilkenny, that it had: Fire without smoke, air without fog, Water without mud, and land without bog." "Kilkenny," repeated Kathleen. "That is where I am going to visit Aunt Hannah, I suppose; but I know I shall never like it so well as living here with you, Cousin Bee." Bee went into the house and came back again in a few minutes, carrying a small flat box from which she took a photograph of a pleasant-faced woman, the very image of dear Uncle Barney. "There's your Aunt Hannah Malone," she said, showing the picture to Kathleen; "she is the best woman in the world, and the mother of ten fine children." And Kathleen, looking at the twinkling eyes and smiling mouth, knew at once that she should be happy in Kilkenny. CHAPTER XI KATHLEEN EARNS A POUND "There's to be a big meet to-day," Patrick said, as Danny and Kathleen were getting ready to start for the bog the next morning. There had been a shower or two in the night, and raindrops sparkled on every blade of grass and twinkled among the green leaves of the trees; but the sun was breaking through the clouds and promised a fair day for the turf-cutting. It was, indeed, a fair day and a fair green country, and Patrick, who had started for the barn with his milk pails, began singing in his hearty voice: "Oh, Ireland, isn't it grand you look, Like a bride in her rich adornin'! And with all the pent-up love of my heart, I bid you the top of the mornin'." "What is a meet?" Kathleen asked, as she and her brother trudged down the road to the bog. "It's a hunting-party, and the ladies and gentlemen from the country round about meet together for it," Danny answered, stopping a moment to look at the tiny green sloes on the blackthorn hedge. "What do they hunt?" she asked. "Sometimes they hunt a deer; and sometimes it's foxes or rabbits they are after," he replied. "If they are hunting a deer I hope they won't catch it," Kathleen said earnestly. But when the sound of the hunting-horn rang merrily across the bog, from the direction of Uncle Barney's house in Killaraght, she was full of excitement over the chase. "Listen!" she cried, standing with outstretched arms to catch the brick of turf Danny was ready to throw to her; "listen, there's the horn now! It sounds so sweet I'd almost think it was the fairies." Danny waited until they heard the baying of the hounds and the halloo of the riders, and then he went on with his work.