Aunt Mary remained a little absent-minded all the morning, and when the time came for Mollie to go to sleep that afternoon she could hear a new tone in Aunt Mary's voice when she began to sing: "O bay of Dublin! my heart you're troublin', Your beauty haunts me like a fevered dream, Like frozen fountains that the sun sets bubblin My heart's blood warms when I but hear your name; And never till this life pulse ceases, My earliest thought you'll cease to be; Oh! there's no one here knows how fair that place is, And no one cares how dear it is to me!" "If Aunt Mary goes on like this, Prue will certainly find me howling my eyes out," Mollie said to herself. "Talk of might-have-beens and never-will-bes! Grandpapa should hear his own daughter singing! Why did I go and mention green diamonds to her!" She shut her eyes tight to keep the tears from falling. The plaintive tune went on, and when a small soft hand crept into her own her cheeks were wet. She kept her eyes closed and held tight to the little hand! * * * * * She was standing in a wide, brick-floored veranda with a steeply sloping roof. The open sides were wreathed with morning-glories, their deep-blue petals wide-spreading to the early sun. Painted tubs, full of scarlet and purple fuchsias, stood in a row beside the railing; coco-nut matting, rough and brown, lay in strips across the red brick floor, and at either end of the veranda stood a deal table. One was covered with books, toys, and work-baskets. At the other sat Bridget, shelling peas. She was singing: "How often when at work I'm sittin', An' musin' sadly on the days of yore, I think I see my Katey knittin', An' the children playin' by the cabin door; I think I see the neighbours' faces All gathered round, their long-lost friend to see, Oh! though no one here knows how fair that place is, Heaven knows how dear my poor home was to me." As she sang the last word she lifted the corner of her apron to dry her eyes, and saw Mollie. "Is it yourself, Miss Mollie, or is it your ghost? May the Lord look sideways on me ould plaid shawl! You gave me a start then, for 'twas only this minute I looked to see an' there was no one there at all." "It's me," said Mollie, swallowing down a few last tears and wondering if she was speaking the truth--perhaps it _was_ her ghost! "Where's everybody?" "They're all dressin' themselves for the balloonin', an' may the Lord preserve Master Hugh an' keep his bones from breakin'. 'Tis a temptin' o' Providence an' his mother sailin' on the salt seas, poor soul. The way the death-watch has been tickin' on me this wake past is something cruel." "What's the ballooning?" Mollie began, but before Bridget could answer Prudence appeared at the house door, dressed in festive pink muslin and a white hat wreathed with rosebuds.