“Well!--well! But where did these two; young shoots come from? this boy an' the colleen here? They worn't to the fore, in my time, Bridget.” “This is Owen, called afther yourself,--an' this is Kathleen. I needn't tell you who she was called afther.” “_Gutsho, alanna? thurm pogue?_--come here, child, and kiss me,” said Owen to his little namesake; “an' sure I can't forget the little woman here; _gutsho, a colleen_, and kiss: me too.” Owen took her on his knee, and kissed her twice. “Och, but poor Kathleen,” said he, “will be the proud woman of this, when she hears it; in throth she will be that.” “Arrah! what's comin' over me!” said Mrs. Farrell. “Brian, run up to Micky Lowrie's for your father, An' see, Brian, don't say who's wantin' him, till we give him a start. Mary, come here, acushla,” she added to her eldest daughter in a whisper--“take these two bottles an' fly up to Peggy Finigan's for the full o' them o' whiskey. Now be back before you're there, or if you don't, that I mightn't, but you'll see what you'll get. Fly, aroon, an' don't let the grass grow undher your feet. An' Owen, darlin'--but first sit over to the fire:--here get over to this side, it's the snuggest;--arrah, Owen--an' sure I dunna what to ax you first. You're all well? all to the fore?” “All well, Bridget, an' thanks be to heaven, all to the fore.” “Glory be to God! Throth it warms my heart to hear it. An' the childre's all up finely, boys an' girls?” “Throth, they are, Bridget, as good-lookin' a family o' childre as you'd wish to see. An' what is betther, they're as good as they're good-lookin'.” “Throth, they couldn't but be that, if they tuck at all afther their father an' mother. Bridget, aroon, rub the pan betther--an' lay the knife down, I'll cut the bacon myself, but go an' get a dozen o' the freshest eggs;--an' Kathleen, Owen, how does poor Kathleen look? Does she stand it as well as yourself?” “As young as ever you seen her. God help her!--a thousand degrees betther nor whin you seen her last.” “An' well to do, Owen?--now tell the truth? Och, musha, I forget who I'm spakin' to, or I wouldn't disremimber the ould sayin' that's abroad this many a year:--'who ever knew a M'Carthy of Tubber Derg to tell a lie, break his word, or refuse to help a friend in distress.' But, Owen, you're well to do in' the world?” “We're as well, Bridget, or may be betther, nor you ever knew us, except, indeed, afore the ould lase was run out wid us.” “God be praised again? Musha, turn round a little, Owen, for 'fraid Frank 'ud get too clear a sight of your face at first. Arrah, do you think he'll know you? Och, to be sure he will; I needn't ax. Your voice would tell upon you, any day.” “Know me! Indeed Frank 'ud know my shadow. He'll know me wid half a look.”