In the mean time, Mrs. Cavanagh set forward a chair for Tom M'Mahon, and desired her daughter Hannah to place one for Bryan, which she did. The two girls were spinning, and it might have been observed that Kathleen appeared to apply herself to that becoming and feminine employment with double industry after the appearance of the M'Mahons. Kate Hogan was sitting in the chimney corner, smoking a pipe, and as she took it out of her mouth to whiff away the smoke from time to time, she turned her black piercing eyes alternately from Bryan M'Mahon to Kathleen with a peculiar keenness of scrutiny. “An' how are you all up at Carriglass?” asked Mrs. Cavanagh. “Indeed we can't complain, thank God, as the times goes,” replied M'Mahon. “An' the ould grandfather?--musha, but I was glad to see him look so well on Sunday last!” “Troth he's as stout as e'er a one of us.” “The Lord continue it to him! I suppose you hard o' this robbery that was done at honest Jemmy Burke's?” “I did, indeed, an' I was sorry to hear it.” “A hundre' an' fifty pounds is a terrible loss to anybody in such times.” “A hundre' an' fifty!” exclaimed M'Mahon--“hut, tut!--no; I thought it was only seventy or eighty. He did not lose so much, did he?” “So I'm tould.” “It was two--um--it was two--urn--urn--it was--um--um--it was two hundre' itself,” observed Cavanagh, after he had finished a portion of the operation, and given himself an opportunity of speaking--“it war two hundre' itself, I'm tould, an' that's too much, by a hundre' and ninety-nine pounds nineteen shillings an' eleven pence three fardens, to be robbed of.” “Troth it is, Gerald,” replied M'Mahon; “but any way there's nothin' but thievin' and robbin' goin'. You didn't hear that we came in for a visit?” “You!” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--“is it robbed? My goodness, no!” “Why,” he proceeded, “we'll be able to get over it afore we die, I hope. On ere last night we had two of our fattest geese stolen.” “Two!” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--“an' at this saison of the! year, too. Well, that same's a loss.” “Honest woman,” said M'Mahon, addressing Kate Hogan, “maybe you'd give me a draw o' the pipe?” “Maybe so,” she replied; “an' why wouldn't I? Shough! that is here!” “Long life to you, Katy. Well,” proceeded the worthy man, “if it was a poor person that wanted them an' that took them from hardship, why God forgive them as heartily as I do: but if they wor stole by a thief, for thievin's sake, I hope I'll always be able to afford the loss of a pair betther than the thief will to do without them; although God mend his or her heart, whichever it was, in the mane time.” During this chat Bryan and Hanna Cavanagh were engaged in that good-humored badinage that is common to persons of their age and position. “I didn't see you at Mass last Sunday, Bryan?” said she, laughing; “an' that's the way you attend to your devotions. Upon my word you promise well!”