Mrs. Byrne folded her arms. "Mary Cregan," she said, in hoarse disgust, "when yuh've done makin' a fool o' yerself, I'll trouble yuh to listen to _me_. _Now!_ If y' ever breathe a word o' this to Cregan, he'll laugh himself blind! Mind yuh that! He'll not believe yuh. No one'll believe yuh. No one! An' if yuh don't want somethin' turrible to happen, yuh'll say nothin', but yuh'll behave yerself like a decent married woman an' go to church an' say yer prayers against trouble. That woman with the cards says whatever th' old Nick puts into her head to say." Mrs. Cregan cried: "She saw it in me hand!" Mrs. Byrne drew herself up like a prophetess. "Dip yer hand in holy water, an' yuh'll hear no more of it. Now, then. Behave yerself." "I was wishin' it!" she wailed. "I was wishin' somethin' 'd happen to him to leave me free here in m' own home!" "An' that," Mrs. Byrne said, "is the judgment o' heaven on yuh fer carin' more fer yer dishes than yuh did fer yer husband. Yuh're a good manager, Mrs. Cregan, but yuh've been a dang poor wife. Think of yer man first an' yer house after, an' yuh'll be a happier woman, I tell yuh." "I will that. I will," Mrs. Cregan wept, "if he's spared to me." "Never fear," Mrs. Byrne said drily. "He'll be spared to yuh." * * * * * And he _has_ been spared to her. At first he was suspicious of her subdued manner and remorseful gentleness; and for a long time he watched her, very warily, with an eye for treachery. Then he understood that she had succumbed to his masterful handling of her, and he was masculinely proud of his conquest. [Illustration: "MRS. CREGAN SAT AS IF SHE WERE WAITING FOR HER TURN TO ENTER A CONFESSIONAL."] Mrs. Cregan is beginning to hope that she has warded off the predicted bad fortune by her devoutness, but she still has her fears. "Twas the doin's o' the divil," she says to Mrs. Byrne. "He had a hand in it, no doubt," Mrs. Byrne agrees. "An' how's Cregan?" she says, "Well, I'm glad o' that.... An' the new dishes?... Good luck to them. Yuh're off early to church again." YOUNG HENRY AND THE OLD MAN BY JOHN M. OSKISON The ranchman and I were discussing courage. I had that day seen young Henry Thomas mount and ride a horse which had bucked in a way to impress the imagination. I spoke of it. "Was it the gray?" queried Brunner, and when I said it was, he scoffed. "That horse is trained to buck just the way young Henry wants him, and he hobbles the stirrups." Brunner's scepticism was disappointing. I ventured to speak of another instance that seemed to illustrate the nerve of Henry Thomas: "Didn't he help capture the 'Kep' Queen bunch of outlaws a few years ago? I've heard he showed nerve then."