"Dear knows, it's himself that ought to leppin' mad wid j'y," cried one of the neighbours. "To get such a chance! Isn't it in the greatest good luck ye are, Dan, to be goin' off to that beautiful place, where ye'll be livin' in the heighth o' comfort an' need never do another hand's turn for yourselves? Troth, I wish it was me that had the offer of it." Many murmurs of approval greeted this sally; every one being convinced that Dan was indeed in luck's way, while his wife wrathfully opined that he didn't know when he was well off. Poor old Dan hastened to assure them that he was "over-j'yed." "I suppose," he added, looking round deprecatingly, "they'll tell me down at the railway station the way we'll have to go; or maybe Father Taylor 'ud know. The say is miles an' miles away--I question if they'd give us a ticket for the say down beyant at Clonkeen." "Sure, yez'll have to go to Dublin first," interposed the well-informed person who had before volunteered useful explanations. "Dublin!" said Dan, sitting down on the edge of his favourite little "creepy" stool. "Well, well, to think o' that! I never thought to be goin' to Dublin, an' I suppose America is twicet as far." "Aye, an' ten times as far," cried Peggy Murphy. Dan looked appealingly round as though seeking contradiction, but could not summon up enough courage to speak. He sat still, rubbing his hands, and smiling a rather vacant smile; and by-and-by, having exhausted their queries and conjectures, the visitors left the cabin, and the old couple were alone. They stared at each other for a moment or two in silence, Mary Brophy fingering the letter which she could not read. "That's grand news?" she remarked presently, with a querulous interrogative note in her voice. "Grand entirely," repeated her husband submissively, rubbing the patched knees of his corduroy trousers for a change. "We'll have to be gettin' ready to be off soon, I suppose?" pursued Mary, still in a tone of vexed inquiry. "Aye," said Dan, continuing to rub his knees. "Ye ought to be out o' yer wits wid delight," asserted Mrs. Brophy angrily. "So I am," said Dan, with a ghastly attempt at cheerfulness. "Ah, go 'long out o' that!" cried Mary. "Ye have me moithered, sittin' there starin' the two eyes out o' yer head. Go out an' give the hens a bit to ate." "Sure we haven't had our own suppers yet," returned Dan, slowly rising; "time enough to give the cratur's what's left." "Listen to the man! 'Pon me word, ye'd never desarve a bit o' good look, Dan Brophy, ye've that little sense. What call have we to go pinchin' an' scrapin' now, will ye tell me? Us that's goin' to spend the rest of our days in peace an' comfort. Sure, Larry'll let us want for nothin' while we live." "Aye, indeed," returned her husband; "I was forgettin' that."